A Fight for Love and Glory
by GinnyWeasleyRocks
Summary: "The wizarding world's been at peace for almost a quarter of a century now. Who people were during the war, what they did - it doesn't matter anymore." But it does. Amid startling new dangers and growing tensions in their sixth year at Hogwarts, Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy must overcome their differences and stand together... before the truth destroys all they hold dear.
1. Prologue: Magic

_Author's Note__: Right, so I have decided to embark on a Rose/Scorpius fanfiction. Some years ago I wrote a Ginny/Harry post-War fic called _**_With Me Always_**_, but I didn't like it so deleted it._

_The story that will follow is my particular interpretation of certain canon characters, the future of said characters, and the nature of the wizarding world itself. I will update with a chapter at the start of every month for the time being._

_Regarding _**_reviews_**, _I realise that the begging approach doesn't really work – and I'm not going to be one of those authors who withhold chapters until they receive a certain amount. The truth is, I'm writing this as much for myself as for other people, and if you have nothing to say after reading one of my chapters, that's fair enough. All the same, do bear in mind that a single word of praise or criticism can be a huge encouragement to an author who has no idea how her story is being received. But it's entirely up to you_.

_Disclaimer: Copyright to J.K. Rowling.__ Also, a huge thanks to some of the amazing fanfictions out there such as the** Life and Times** by jewels5 (one of the greatest love stories ever written, in my opinion) and **On the Other Side** by OffDreaming. Both helped to inspire me so much over the years when I was pondering writing this fanfiction._

**Prologue: Magic**

Remote and rambling, the old house stood at the crest of a valley. Behind it stretched a huge, sloping garden, strewn with wildflowers. On long summer evenings, when the crickets were singing and the silver springs and cornfields of the valley below were transformed by the soft pink glow of sunset, the two little girls liked to come and play hide-and-seek there.

They would spill forth from the doors of the old house to the dried-up pool at the bottom of the garden. One of them would sit cross-legged among the dry stones of the sunken base, eyes squeezed shut as she counted, while the other darted stealthily away to conceal herself in shadowy corners.

When they had grown weary of the game, they simply lay side-by-side among the long grass, speaking to each other only in low, reverential tones, as though the purpling sky overhead were the dome of a vast cathedral. Though close as sisters, the two little girls were as different as could be. The first, who lived in the old stone house, was small, round and dark, with liquid eyes that shone and flashed in alternate moods – as quick to smile as she was to scowl. The second girl, a frequent visitor, was slim and strong, as fair as the other girl was dark, with calm, pale eyes.

On one such evening, in the last week of August, the two little girls were chasing each other through the sun-dappled garden. The smaller one lost herself in the impossible heights of the swaying grasses while the tall, fair girl crouched to pull up daisies, crafting them into long, intricate chains and draping them over her hair and shoulders, bowing this way and that like a queen holding court.

"You cheated!" Her friend pushed through the grasses a moment later, pouting, her face flushed with exertion. Then her eyes alighted on the daisies adorning the other girl's person, and lit up. "Ooh! Will you make some for me, too? Please?"

"I already did." She held up a long, tied pattern of daisy chains, smiling slightly as her friend squealed with delight, clapping her hands. "Hold still."

"They're beautiful!" the girl exclaimed after she had been similarly swathed in daisies, twirling around and around until she almost tripped over her skirts, while the other laughed. "Thank you thank you _thank you_."

Then, in one of her impulsive displays of affection, the little girl burst forward and hugged her fair friend around the waist, her face screwed up in emotion. "I'm going to miss you," she said in a muffled voice. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"I'll be back next summer, and the next," the fair girl assured her. Then she frowned, a note of uncertainty in her voice. "But I hope you don't forget me in the meantime. You'll meet all sorts of new people at school."

"I won't like any of them _half_ as well as you," the dark girl said fervently. "I won't forget you, not ever." Pulling back, her eyes widened as an idea struck her. "I know! Will I make a solemn vow, like they do in the stories?"

"Yes," her friend said eagerly, pressing forward. "Do it with magic." Seeing the other's sudden doubt at the words, she pressed on, "For me. _Please_?"

Sighing, the dark girl cast a furtive glance back at the house, then raised her right hand slowly. She frowned in concentration, and after a moment, her fingertips began to glow with a soft golden light, leaking from her skin as she traced a heart in the air. It hung, shimmering in the waning sunlight, for a few moments, then shattered in a thousand bright drops, striking both girls' faces softly and fading into their skin.

"That's my vow," she said quietly, lowering her hand once more. "To never forget you, until the end of my days."

There was a sadness to the fair girl's smile as she took her smaller friend's hands in hers. "But you can't promise that, not _really_. After all, you're special, remember?"

"So are you," the dark girl insisted stubbornly. "You're just as special as I am. And I can teach you everything I've learnt, when I get back next summer."

"I don't think so." They stood in silence for a moment, the two little, daisy-chain wrapped figures with joined hands in the wide, green garden, the sun setting over the valley behind them. "But I can always watch you do magic, can't I?"

"Always," the dark little girl agreed with some relief, unaware that it was a promise she could never keep.

_**A.N.: This may be a little confusing, but never fear. All will be revealed in time...**_


	2. Confetti

_**Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling.**_

**Chapter 2: Confetti**

Before embarking upon this story, the author feels it prudent to inform her readers that at the point in time and space where it begins - that is, at a Devon wedding in the summer preceding their sixth year at Hogwarts - Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy had never exchanged more than five words in as many years of acquaintance.

Why would they have? They belonged to entirely different groups of friends in entirely different Houses at Hogwarts. Their parents had not the friendliest relations, nor the fondest memories of one another in their own school days. They shared some classes, but had never been seated together by any of the professors. That was no deliberate act, simply chance.

Of course, they were vaguely aware of each other's existence, both of them having been made prefects for their respective Houses in fifth year. Having received the same amount of 'O's in their O.W.L. exams, they were encouraged by others to view one other as academic competition. However, aside from glimpses at train platforms and whispers at school, Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy knew nothing about each other. Their lives had followed two separate courses, each unaffected by the other's bends and turns...

Until the wedding.

* * *

"Merlin, _I _wish I was descended from a Veela," Lily Potter hissed into Rose's ear as they stood by the arch with the other bridesmaids, donning matching dresses of light blue, white primroses scattered in their hair.

"Why, so men would fall into a stupor at your feet?" Rose teased, as the bride and groom began to murmur their vows, loud sobs issuing from the front row of chairs. "Don't they already?"

Lily poked her hard in the ribs. "_No_. And you know what I mean… _Look _at her. And Teddy too. How cool would it be to change your appearance at will? Their kids are going to be _talented_."

In front of them, Dominique, sister of the bride and maid of honour, swivelled around and shot them a glare, and Lily reluctantly shut her mouth. A slight smile on her lips, Rose looked fondly at the young couple standing beneath the wedding arch.

She wasn't the sort to get sentimental at weddings, or indeed any kind of formal occasion, being too practical (or _boring_, according to her cousins). All the same, it was strange to see Victoire, who had been Head Girl in Rose's first year at Hogwarts, getting married when she was only a few years out of school - and to _Teddy_, who was like a surrogate son to the Potters, who had been coming to Christmas dinner for as long as Rose could remember, thrilling them with his ever-changing appearance.

Today, his hair was shoulder-length, wavy and carrot-red, in honour of the family he was marrying into, and he looked characteristically serious. Opposite him, Victoire stood gazing into his dark eyes, wearing her mother's wedding dress, a plain white gown made extraordinary by her dazzling features and silvery lengths of hair. The sky above was cornflower-blue, and the sun beamed down on the couple, glinting in the water of the spring nearby, the sound of rushing water providing a gentle accompaniment to the slow murmur of the marriage vows.

Waving his wand as he spoke, the ceremonial wizard conjured golden ribbons in the air, which wrapped around the couple's joined hands.

"I'm sweating like a Nogtail," Lily groaned, and Rose gave an involuntary snort of laughter, causing several of the bridesmaids and onlookers to turn their heads, startled. The ceremonial wizard faltered, almost imperceptibly, in his words, before continuing hastily. Looking over at the front seats, Rose saw her dad shake her head at them in mock reproach, while her mother watched the ceremony, blissfully oblivious to the interruption as she cried silently. Beside her, Aunt Ginny simply raised her eyebrows reprovingly at her goddaughter, but she could tell she was trying hard not to smile.

Rose always found it a bit alarming at family gatherings such as these, when she was greeted with the sheer vastness of the red-haired clan to which she belonged. The bride's side of the aisle was bursting with Weasleys of all shapes and sizes. Victoire's parents sat in the front row, her beautiful mother wearing lilac robes and a stylish hat, her scarred father wearing sombre dress robes. The various uncles and aunts were present, too, except for Uncle Percy, who was busy campaigning in the election for the new Minister for Magic.

Rose's younger brother was slumped in the front row with her parents, clad in red dress-robes and looking hopelessly bored. Behind him, Lily's brother James was absentmindedly hovering pieces of confetti in the air with his wand before letting them drop into Hugo's auburn hair. Albus, another cousin and one of her best friends at school, met Rose's gaze and rolled his eyes at her.

Fred, who was a couple of years older than James and therefore too mature to be throwing pieces of confetti in his cousin's hair, sat on his other side, looking even more bored than Hugo, his chin propped on his hand. Last of the cousins was Louis, Victoire's brother, looking impossibly handsome with his chiselled features and silvery hair - Rose remembered having a crush on him when she was little.

She felt a pang of pity when she looked at the bridegroom's side of the aisle; it was conspicuously empty. Most of Teddy's family had died years ago in the war. The sole occupant of the front row was his grandmother, Andromeda, a formidable old witch with long, grey hair. She was wearing an impressive set of salmon-pink dress robes, and sat misty-eyed, smiling wistfully.

Behind her stretched many empty seats, occupied mainly by former classmates of Teddy, and his friends from the Auror department. One of them stood by the arch as his best man: Geoffrey Alderton, a quiet, serious looking young man with fair hair, his dressrobes decorated with a single white rose. His sister, Penny, shared Rose's dormitory at Hogwarts.

But there was someone else whom she did not recognise, towards the back of Teddy's row, sitting alone… a fine-boned, black-haired woman who appeared to be around her parents' age. She wore elegant, green silk robes which matched her sharp eyes, her features impassive as she watched the ceremony. A momentary frown creased Rose's forehead – she had seen that woman before, but could not quite recall where.

One of the Aurors standing guard nearby cleared his throat, and Rose glanced over. The dark-robed figures stood apart from the brightly-dressed guests with their arms folded, gazes constantly roaming the sunny meadow around them for any outside threat. It was not an unfamiliar sight to Rose; since she was small, she had learnt that whenever her uncle Harry attended any public occasion, security was never far away.

She could tell he disliked it, from the tension in his features whenever the Aurors crossed his line of vision – and from countless whispered arguments she had overheard between her parents, she knew that they were not fond of the security either. But that, she supposed, was the price of saving the world… One could never quite have a normal life afterwards, only hope for one.

Startled out of her reverie by a nudge from Lily, Rose looked back at the arch to see Victoire and Teddy kissing beneath it while a shower of silver stars and confetti fell on them. Deafening cheers and applause rose up from the crowd of seated guests. She felt a grin break across her face as she watched. In the front row, Hugo looked immensely relieved, and put two fingers in his mouth, trying to whistle like James was doing behind him.

The newly-weds proceeded down the aisle in a kind of dazed bliss, Dominique going immediately after, arm in arm with Geoffrey Alderton while her other hand held Victoire's satin train. The other bridesmaids followed behind: Molly and Lucy pairing off while Roxanne hung back with Rose and Lily. "What was with you two earlier?" she demanded as soon as they had passed the last row.

"_Lily_ was trying to be funny," Rose said, shouldering into her younger cousin playfully. "Nogtails don't sweat, love."

"Pick on someone your own size, _Weasley_," her cousin replied, shoving her back.

Roxanne shook her head, looping her arm with Rose's. "Well, I think Dominique was ready to kill you both, no questions asked." A slim, pretty witch with dark hair and coffee-coloured skin, she had sat her N.E.W.T.s a few months ago, and was working as a robe apprentice in Madam Malkin's. Rose knew she would miss her when she got back; she had always been good fun in school.

They followed the married couple across the luscious grass, hopping over the rushing spring, to the old dilapidated cottage at the far end of the meadow, the rest of the guests following behind with the ceremonial wizard. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose noticed the dark-robed Aurors moving ahead of the procession, wands raised, presumably to inspect the cottage before they entered. "Is that really necessary?" she said to no one in particular, feeling a prickle of irritation.

Following her gaze, Roxanne shrugged. "Probably not. But you know Granny Weasley. Still thinks that everyone's after Uncle Harry and your parents."

"Doesn't hurt to be careful, I suppose," Lily said, her tone surprisingly serious for a moment. Then Roxanne dropped Rose's arm and hung back to talk to her boyfriend, and the two girls raised their eyebrows at each other, grinning again.

"So, d'you reckon their kids'll have superpowers?" Lily resumed lightly. She skipped ahead, red hair dancing, as they reached the threshold of the ruined cottage. "Veela and Metamorphagus and werewolf all in one, I wonder if it's ever happened before? Pretty impressive, right?"

"Hopefully _not_ the werewolf part." They stepped into the cottage together. On the inside, it was a vast hall, flooded with sunlight, the ceilings decorated with streamers. Tables groaning with food lined the sides of the hall, a wide dancefloor of polished wood occupying the centre. Lily gasped. "Look at all that food! I'm _starved_…"

Hours later, floating candles were lit as the sun set over the meadow. The tables in the cottage had been cleared, the pile of wedding presents piled against the corner. Most of the dancefloor was crowded with swaying couples while the band on the raised platform at the back of the hall played a slow, jazzy number that sounded suspiciously like one of Celestina Warbeck's. Granny Weasley's favourite – of course.

"How are you, cousin dearest?"

Looking from where she sat in the corner, hands on her groaning stomach, Rose saw her cousin, James. His spiky black hair looked messier than usual, brown eyes sparkling mischievously. "Ate a bit too much?" he added sympathetically, to which she nodded. "Ah, not to worry. Easy mistake to make. Some Butterbeer ought to fix that. Oi!" He gestured to a passing waiter, who did not see him, then sighed dramatically.

"It's fine," Rose said, suppressing a laugh. "I don't want any - " But James had already summoned a goblet filled to the brim with Butterbeer, and handed it to her smoothly, tucking his wand back into his pocket. She rolled her eyes, taking a sip. It really was rather nice. "You really enjoy lording it over us lowly underage witches and wizards, don't you?"

"Yes," James said immediately. "And so will you, mark my words. Now c'mon, let's mingle, Miss Wallflower." He grabbed her hand and pulled her after him into the crowd, a dizzying blur of red hair and dress-robes.

"I'm not a _wallflower_, Lily just went off dancing with someone and I – oh, I'm _so _sorry!" Rose exclaimed as some Butterbeer sloshed out of her goblet and onto someone's robes. Turning back, she saw that it was the mysterious black-haired witch she had noticed earlier seated in the back row. She gave Rose an annoyed glare, then took out her wand and Vanished the stain on her robes, before turning back to whoever she was talking to.

Rose hesitated a second more, then let James pull her on. They came close to the platform, the sound of the band's music loud in their ears. Rose could see her parents seated nearby, engaged in earnest conversation with Andromeda Tonks. Her mother was tapping her foot to the rhythm absentmindedly while she listened to whatever the old witch was saying, a goblet on the table in front of her. Albus was chatting to Hugo, whose hair was still sprinkled with confetti (James snorted at the sight).

Granny Weasley appeared out of nowhere, beaming all over her wrinkled face, and tugged James into a tight embrace. "Lovely ceremony, wasn't it? Haven't seen any of you in much too long… You _must _come over to the Burrow before the end of the holidays." Her eyes lit up when she saw Rose, and she let go of James, cupping her granddaughter's face in her hands. "Did I hear that this girl got nine _O_s in her O.W.L.s?"

Rose nodded and smiled shyly, feeling a swell of pride.

"A bit of a genius, is our Rosie." Her father had risen from the table where her mother and Andromeda sat, and joined them, ruffling his daughter's curly red hair and grinning. From the ruddy flush of his cheeks and his slightly slurred speech, Rose guessed that he was more than a little tipsy.

"Just like her mother," Granny Weasley said, still beaming, and Rose felt like she had been doused in cold water. She forced herself to keep smiling as her dad and grandmother embarked on a lengthy conversation about her mother's grades in school, her gaze straying from them.

A few paces away, James was complimenting his cousin's confetti-strewn hair. "It's a real statement, y'know? Promise me to never let _anyone_ mock your style. I'm proud to have a cousin as brave as you." Albus, laughing, gave his brother a shove while Hugo scowled. Over at her mother's table, Andromeda Tonks had risen to her feet and was sternly talking to the best man as she straightened his dress robes.

It was silly, really, Rose reflected, that she should feel this sinking feeling every time she was compared to her mother. She was proud of her, of course, and of her dad – who could ask for better parents? They had saved the world, for Merlin's sake… And both of them held important positions in the Ministry too; she had been frequently told how lucky she was – shouldn't it please her that she took after them?

Smilingly, Rose detached herself from the conversation as soon as she could politely do so, and moved past her brother and cousins, who were now enthusiastically reliving the various Quidditch World Cups they had attended over the years.

Her mother put out a hand as she passed their table, looking up at her concernedly. "Are you all right, love? You look a bit flushed."

Rose nodded hastily. "I'm fine, Mum. Just going to get a bit of fresh air."

"Is this your eldest?" Andromeda Tonks smiled at her kindly as she sat down once more. "Would you like some elderberry wine, dear?" She waved her wand, and another goblet appeared beside the two already on the table, but Rose indicated her Butterbeer, with another forced smile and thanks.

She moved on, feeling her mother's concerned gaze on her back. The nearest door was beside the platform, and guarded by one of the dark-robed Aurors. As she walked towards it, she sensed someone looking at her and raised her eyes and saw that fine-boned, green-eyed witch again, alone this time.

She was standing a little way apart from the crowd, where Rose could see Aunt Ginny being twirled rather clumsily by Uncle Harry, who was laughing. The witch was looking warily at the goblet in Rose's hand, and she felt herself flush a deeper crimson. That had been an accident earlier… It wasn't like she was going to spill it again.

Rose was relieved to get to the door, where the Auror questioned for what felt like a minute before letting her through. She stepped out into the evening air, deliciously cool against her warm skin, and sighed. The hills of Devon reared up in the distance, purple in the dusk. She could hear a cow mooing a few fields away, and the rushing of the spring nearby. How peaceful, to be by herself just for a moment...

Above the stone wall that bordered the meadow a few feet away, the air shimmered as though in a heat-haze, where she knew the Muggle-Repelling Charm had been cast. It gave her a nice, safe feeling, that they were enclosed in a warm, protected little bubble.

The instant she stepped back over the threshold, she heard the scream.

The Auror who had been holding the door open for her sprinted into the confused crowd, wand out, and she followed after, heart pounding. Was it Uncle Harry? Had someone broken through the defences to attack him? Or was it just another of James' pranks? How she hoped that was all it was… _Just a prank_.

Past the platform, Rose came to a staggering halt. A few feet away, her mother had risen from the table and was doubled over, coughing. Andromeda sprung from the table with surprising agility for her age, pointing her wand at Hermione's throat as she choked. "_Relashio_!" she screamed, then, "Help! _Help_!"

A goblet dropped from her mother's hand, her knees buckling, and then she was kneeling on the floor. Her face had turned deathly white, and she was clutching at her throat, making horrible rasping sounds.

"Mum!" Rose screamed. Time seemed to be going slowly, painfully slowly, and she felt helpless, rooted to the spot. "_Mum_!" Her mother's eyes met hers briefly, and there was a trapped terror in them that she had never seen before. Rose started to run towards her, drawing her wand, but someone pulled her back.

"_Let me through_!" Her father broke through the crowd, shoving people aside, Uncle Harry on his heels, glasses askew, with one of the Aurors. "HERMIONE!"

Ron Weasley threw himself forward, seizing his wife around the waist - heaved her up into a standing position against his shoulder, arm draped around his neck - and, turning on the spot, Disapparated.

There was a sudden, awful silence in the hall. Rose screamed through it, in a voice thick with tears, "_MUM_!" She struggled against whoever was holding her. It was James, face stricken. He let her go and she ran forward to the spot where her parents had Disapparated, to seize the goblet that her mother had dropped. There was still some wine left in it, though most of it had spilt on the floor.

Looking up, she saw Uncle Harry get to his knees beside her and take the goblet from her hands. Though his face was slack with shock, there was a strange quality to his green eyes - a momentary brightness that made him seem more… _alive_ than Rose had ever seen him before. Then it vanished, and he just looked afraid.

"She's been poisoned," he said in a low voice. "Rosie, you need to get out of here."

Then, pointing his wand at his throat, he rose, and said, "_Sonorus_." Instantly his voice was magnified, filling the hall, impossible calm. "All of you need to leave, as soon as you can. Someone has been poisoned. We're not safe here anymore. The Aurors have lifted the Anti-Apparition Jinx. If anyone displays any strange symptoms in the meantime, please go to St Mungo's immediately. _Leave now_. We are not safe."

All around them, there were _pop_s as people began to Disapparate. Uncle Harry moved away again, and the Auror was bending over now, examining the goblet.

Hugo appeared beside her, his face pale. "What's happened?" he asked faintly, and Rose stood, taking hold of his hand. "Mum…" she choked out, but could not continue.

Teddy emerged through the crowd, his red hair standing on end, his arm cast protectively around Victoire, shouting something Rose could not hear, and Harry pushed him back roughly. "_Get out_!" he was yelling. "Get yourselves out of here!"

_Their wedding's been ruined_, Rose thought numbly, then someone behind her and Hugo grasped their arms. Turning, they saw Charlie, their stockily-built uncle who tended to dragons, grim-faced. "Hold on tightly, now."

They clutched at him as he turned and they were squeezed into compressing darkness, tighter and tighter until they landed, staggering, in a dim kitchen. "Why are we in the Burrow?" Hugo asked, his voice shaking, looking around while Rose put a hand to her head and tried to stop the room spinning around her.

"This was a safehouse for the Order during the war," Charlie said. "Your home may not be safe at the moment. We'll wait here for a while."

Flicking his wand and muttering, he summoned a silver dragon-shaped Patronus, which flew out of the room. "Mum and Dad should be back soon, and they'll look after you. I've just sent them a message."

There was a _pop_, and Uncle Harry appeared in the room, breathing fast. "Good, you're safe," he said, looking at Rose and Hugo. "Thanks, Charlie. Ron's taken your mum to St Mungo's, OK? You'll get news of her soon. I'd stay with you, but I've got things to do - "

"Uncle Harry," Rose said quietly as her uncle turned to leave, and he looked back at her. She was not sure exactly what she wanted to say, but something in his earnest green eyes reminded her… "Has everyone left the wedding?"

"A lot of the guests are still there, some of them don't like Apparating so we're arranging other transport," he replied. He was trying to sound gentle, but she could sense his impatience. "Why?"

"Because I saw someone," she said, and her voice was stronger. Hugo was staring at her. "I saw a witch near my mum, a few minutes before it happened. She was wearing green robes… had black hair… tall and pale. She gave me a strange look, it seemed suspicious – I thought you might want to look into it."

Her uncle nodded briskly. "Thanks, Rose. I will. Take care, all of you." Without another word, he spun on the spot, and Disapparated.

Hugo collapsed into the nearest chair, and began to cry softly. Rose's stomach gave another lurch. The weight of what had just happened was beginning to hit her, and she stepped forward with some difficulty, seating herself in the chair beside Hugo's and dropping her face into her hands. Everything was moving too fast – she felt as though she were still at the wedding, watching her mother drop to her knees, choking, without running forward or helping or casting any spells or even _trying_…

"Rosie?" her brother's voice came quietly after some time, muffled and hoarse with tears. "Is Mum going to die?"

Something wrenched at Rose's heart. Mechanically, she lifted her head from her hands, reached out and pulled Hugo into her arms, clutching him tightly as he sobbed. He dropped his head onto her shoulder, and she patted his back. It had been years since she had hugged her little brother properly. It felt strange.

"You know, you've got confetti in your hair," she said after a moment, because it was all she could think of to say.

_**A.N: Dramatic! Reviews would be wonderful.**_


	3. An Accusation

**Chapter 3: An Accusation**

_**Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling**_

Scorpius Malfoy pushed open the door and stepped inside the Leaky Cauldron. An instant roar of noise rose to greet him; the dark, smoky interior of the pub was packed with witches and wizards returning from work who had lingered to embrace the evening. Mrs Abbott, the landlady, gave him a curt nod when he entered, barely looking up from the glass she was cleaning.

Most of the customers ignored him as he passed, though a few paused in their merrymaking to stare boldly, hostility written all over their faces. Scorpius fixed his eyes on the door and made his way towards it calmly with his head held erect, ignoring the stares. His wand was stowed in his jeans pocket, but he felt no urge to grab it. He never had. After sixteen years of enduring strange looks and distrustful whispers, Scorpius Malfoy would have found it strange to walk into the Leaky Cauldron and _not _attract hostile attention. At any rate, they always got bored of staring after a minute or two.

"Hey, Scorpius!" Torrance Bole, his stocky, brown-haired roommate at Hogwarts, had risen from a table crowded with Slytherins nearest the far door, grinning at him. "Come sit with the outcasts of sixth year."

Scorpius returned his grin, feeling some relief at the sight of his Housemates. "I thought I'd find you all here." He slipped into the free seat beside Carlos Santini, a burly, olive-skinned boy, who gave him a brief nod before returning to his Firewhiskey. "Were you getting school stuff?"

Before anyone could answer, Orchid Ottelby, a girl with dyed blonde hair in a ponytail who was currently going out with Torrance, rolled her eyes and said, "Can we _please _not talk about school right now? I, for one, do _not _want to revisit my 'P' in History of Magic. Seriously, how could anyone actually get an 'O' in it?"

One of Scorpius's closest friends, Jeremy Sharpwood, cleared his throat awkwardly, then ducked as she lobbed an empty goblet at him. "C'mon, Ottelby, it's easy if you just _listen_ to Binns," he protested, re-emerging from behind the table a moment later and adjusting his glasses.

"Nah, I'm with Orchid on this one," Nina Meyer said firmly. Tall, black and curly-haired, she was the only Muggle-born in their year who had been Sorted into Slytherin, and one of the few in the entire house. "All those in favour of Professor Binns being forever removed from Hogwarts and us actually getting a _decent _History of Magic teacher?"

All the Slytherins raised their hands except for Jem. Scorpius was the last to do so, and glanced apologetically at his friend. "Sorry, Sharpwood. He _is_ a pretty awful teacher. And History of Magic was my only 'E', after all."

"Oh, sod off, Malfoy, we all know how smart you are," Torrance said, leaning back in his chair and grinning. He slipped an arm around Orchid's shoulders. "Sharpwood, for that you're getting the next round of drinks. Hop to it."

Grumbling, Jem dragged his skinny frame up from the table. "Fine. Scorpius, you want a Firewhiskey?" At his friend's nod, he sloped off to the bar.

"So, Scorpius, how come you didn't join us earlier?" Orchid asked.

"My aunt and cousins decided to come over at the last minute," Scorpius said with a groan. "Only managed to escape a few minutes ago. Anyway, I've bought all my stuff already."

"Well, you didn't miss much." Nina shot a pointed glance at Orchid. "We had a really _fun _day of shopping that didn't involve any arguments or shouting at shop-assistants or failures to purchase a certain Potions ingredient…"

"There wasn't any left in any of the apothecaries, I _checked_!" Orchid insisted, dropping her head onto Torrance's shoulder. "Merlin, buy your own Honeywater…"

There was a brief lull in the conversation, then Carlos Santini leaned towards Scorpius in his seat, suddenly eager. "Hey, Malfoy, wait till you hear my masterplan for this year's matches."

"Oh, yeah, I heard you got captain," Scorpius said vaguely, keeping his features impassive. He was painfully aware that the others at the table were watching him closely. _Though what possessed Professor Vance to pick you, when I was the clear choice_… "Congratulations."

It wasn't that he was conceited. Scorpius had often been told that he was one of the best Slytherin Seekers in decades. He had attended more training sessions than anyone else on his team, and in May, had made a spectacular capture of the Snitch that had won Slytherin their only match of the year. As well as that, he had been on the team two years longer than Santini, whose familial connection to the national Spanish Quidditch team was undoubtedly the sole reason he had been made captain.

"Thanks." Santini gave a self-satisfied little shrug that made Scorpius want to hex him. "Anyway, I really think we've got it in the bag this year. All we have to do is increase the training intensity… I've already got the pitch booked for four training sessions a week – doubt any of the other captains have thought of that yet…"

"Well, I hope you've reckoned with James Potter," Scorpius said casually, unable to help himself. "Gryffindor's won the Cup every year since he started at Hogwarts."

"Ever the pessimist," Carlos smirked slightly. "Look, it's Potter's last year, and he's getting soft in his old age. Complacent. They only won last time by a margin. I bet you ten Galleons we take it this year."

"Make that twenty. I'd like to buy myself a new set of dress robes at the end of the year." Scorpius angled his chair away from Santini's before he said anything else. There was a tension at the table that had not been there before; he saw it in Nina's raised eyebrows at the exchange, in Torrance's frown as he watched the two Quidditch players, felt it in his own tightened muscles, the surge of irritation whenever he looked at Santini's smug face.

The truth was, Scorpius knew exactly why the Slytherin Head of House hadn't chosen him as captain. He had known the instant his school letter had arrived with no silver badge attached, and his father, shaking his head, had said quietly, _I don't think you ever stood a chance, Scorpius_. But it had seemed just as unlikely the previous year that he would be made prefect, yet they had sent him _that_ badge.

The uncomfortable silence was broken when Jem returned to the table with their drinks, weaving around the crowded tables. A deafening cheer went up from the bar, where a group of intoxicated wizards stood with their arms linked around each other as they listened to the W.W.N. "I was talking to Mrs Abbott up there," he said, setting a goblet of Firewhiskey before Scorpius. "The votes are nearly counted, and she's saying that the new Minister for Magic is probably - "

"Hershia Potts?" Orchid said at once, who followed Ministry politics religiously. She lifted her head from Torrance's shoulder, shrugging off his arm. "I _bet_ it is. She really blew the other candidates out of the water."

"No…" Jem resumed his seat, taking a sip of his own Gillywater. "It's Percy Weasley."

There was a chorus of groans from around the table. Torrance swore loudly, Nina shook her head in disgust, Santini sighed, while Orchid simply went pale and began to rant furiously. "But Hershia Potts _clearly_ deserved it! She put the most into her campaign, by far! And they haven't had a female Minister for Magic since Millicent Bagnold – it's ridiculous! They - "

"Sweetheart," Torrance broke in, his expression sour. "No one cares about Hershia Potts. What we careabout is that yet _another _Weasley has crawled their way into a high place – the highest place there is, in fact – and is now making decisions for us!"

"Is anyone _really_ surprised, though?" Jem said sceptically, glancing around at the others. "I mean, the Potter-Weasleys have had everything sewn up since the War. Not just the Ministry – the Quidditch league, _The Daily Prophet_… And with Potter as Chief Auror and Granger as Head of the D.M.L.E., it was only a matter of time until another one took the Minister's office."

"Bloody nepotism," Orchid muttered, still looking livid.

"As if they don't have enough power already," Torrance agreed darkly. "Next they'll be abolishing Slytherin or something… Incarcerating all the former Death Eaters' children…" At this point, he turned to look at Scorpius, who had remained resolutely silent throughout the discussion, drinking his Firewhiskey. "What do _you_ think, Scorpius?"

Scorpius shrugged his shoulders, expressionless. He set his almost-empty goblet down. "Doesn't make much difference to me."

"You never seem to have anything to say about the Potter-Weasleys, do you?" Santini remarked from beside Torrance.

Scorpius's hand was itching towards his jeans pocket, but he didn't move. "My dad doesn't like me to talk about them," he muttered.

"Oh, really?" Orchid leaned across the table confidentially. "Is it because Harry Potter saved his life? I've always wondered."

Scorpius looked at her for a moment, then shrugged again, the usual heavy feeling inside of him returning, like lead filling his veins. He could feel the others' curious gazes on him, and stared down at the wood of the table, raising the goblet to his lips and draining the last of the Firewhiskey so quickly that the room grew fuzzy around him. Santini's mouth was framing another question when Jem spoke hastily.

"So there you have it. Another Weasley in power. Anyway, it's getting a bit late for me, I've got to catch the Knight Bus." He stood from the table, swinging his tatty Muggle jacket around his bony shoulders. "Scorpius, don't you have to be getting back too?"

"Oh, c'mon, it's only half ten!" protested Torrance, dismayed, as the two rose from the table. "And here we were, having a nice House reunion…"

"We'll see you in a week, Bole," Jem said laughingly, nodding at the others as they said their goodbyes before moving away from the table.

Scorpius was silent as they left the Leaky Cauldron together, striding away into the darkening streets of London. The dusty warmth of the day still lingered in the air, and Jem folded his jacket over his arm, glancing at his friend as they walked. "Look, Scorpius… You know Carlos, he's an idiot - "

"I saw the way they were all looking at me," Scorpius said in a low, strained voice as they turned into a shortcut: a long, narrow alley. "It's always about my dad, _always_ - they want to know whether he still has the Dark Mark, or why he isn't in Azkaban, or what's it like living in a house with him, or…"

"I know," Jem said, sighing.

"No, you don't." Scorpius didn't say it with any accusation in his voice, just weariness, for they had held this conversation many times before. "Your parents were collaborators, but they never took the Mark. There was never any question of them going to Azkaban. But Voldemort _handpicked_ my dad to kill one of the greatest wizards of all time." They emerged onto a wider street, just as the streetlamps flared on. "People don't forget something like that."

"They do, though." Once they had passed a pub where two Muggles stood outside the door, smoking, Jem turned around to look at him, and they came to a halt. "The wizarding world's been at peace for almost a quarter of a century now. Who people were during the war, what they did - it doesn't matter anymore."

Scorpius shook his head. "It does, though."

They were silent for a moment, then Jem sighed again. "There's no point arguing with you. Look, I'd better be heading home. I'll see you at King's Cross next week, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jem held his wand out over the pavement. With an unearthly screech, the garish, multidecker bus materialised in the road before them. The door opened and a young, round-faced conductor waved cheerily from the door and made the usual introduction. "Good evening, an' welcome to the Knight Bus…"

Jem was climbing the steps when Scorpius said roughly over the conductor's voice, more to the street than to his friend, "Thanks, Sharpwood."

"No problem, Malfoy." Jem glanced back at him once, and raised his eyebrows. "I think Santini was right about one thing though. This year's going to be… different." With that, he turned, and stepped into the bus.

* * *

The Malfoys' house was only a ten minutes' walk from the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road. That was partly the reason his parents had purchased it when they married, some years after the War. It stood concealed in the centre of a line of townhouses, overlooking a wide grassy square. Lights were still on in most of the windows, spilling across the path.

Scorpius stood for a few moments before the gap between Number 7 and Number 9, thinking hard, until a line of white appeared, emerging into a fully-grown house in a matter of seconds, identical to the others. It was tall, elegant and old-fashioned, with steps to the front door and a railing with steps to the servant's entrance below ground… for back when there _had _been servants.

The House-Elf Protection Act of 2010, passed by Hermione Granger, meant that it was considerably more difficult and expensive to acquire house-elves as servants these days. Even his grand-parents lived without aid in their great, dusty family manor in the countryside, though Scorpius could not fathom _how_.

He was about to ascend the steps when the door opened, and a tall witch stepped out, two boys in tow. Instinctively, Scorpius ducked behind the railing and watched his aunt make her way down onto the pavement. She was a fragile, bony woman; her skin had the appearance of a material that had been stretched too far, almost to breaking point. It strained the muscles of her face, making her seem older than she was – the effect was not helped by the tight bun her dark hair was pulled into.

Her eyes, sharp and green, scanned the darkness around her briefly. Scorpius, crouched beside the railing, prayed that she would not catch sight of him. Thankfully, she turned back towards the front door after a moment. "Tobias! Hurry up!"

A dark-skinned boy of about eleven slammed the door behind him and bounded down the steps, a mischievous grin on his face, to join his younger brothers as they stood around their mother on the pavement. They already held her hands, so he reached up and took a tight grip on her upper left arm. With one last sweeping glance at the house, Daphne Greengrass gathered her robes around her and spun on the spot. The small family vanished into the night.

Scorpius straightened up from the railing, but waited a few more minutes, until he was sure they were well and truly gone. Then, breathing a sigh of relief, he ascended the steps and opened the front door, stepping into the hall, and blinked a few times to adjust to the light. The polished marble floor stretched before him, shiningly clean. The house was quiet, he noted. "Dad?" he called.

"In here," a voice called. Overhead, the suspended lamp followed Scorpius through the air as he made his way to the door at the far end of the hall, entering the brightly-lit dining room where his father sat at the long wooden table, a frown of concentration on his face as he wrote on a yellowing scroll with a quill. Behind him, a pot scrubbed itself clean in the sink, and a brush was sweeping the floor discreetly.

"How were your friends?" Draco Malfoy asked, casting a brief glance at his son and setting down his quill for a moment. He looked tired, weary lines etched in his face. Streaks of grey ran through his white blond hair, barely distinguishable from it. His dark blue shirt-sleeves were buttoned to each wrist, as they always were. Scorpius often wondered how his father managed to endure the long, sweltering days of summer at work without rolling up his sleeves.

"Fine," he said, rather unconvincingly, but his father simply raised his eyebrows and resumed his writing. "I saw the Greengrasses leave a few minutes ago."

"I'm sure you cunningly managed to avoid them."

"Was it bad?" Scorpius said apologetically, slumping into the nearest chair. "Sorry, I just had to get out. Aunt Daphne was driving me mad. She's so _draining_."

"Don't speak ill of your relations, Scorpius. I certainly could have used your help entertaining them, though – and your mother's, too. It's been a long day." His father put down the quill and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment. "But never mind. There's some stew left in the pantry, if you're hungry." He waved his wand in a precise, controlled movement, and a covered bowl flew from the next room, landing beside Scorpius.

"Thanks. Mum's not back yet, then?" Scorpius asked as he uncovered the stew and began to spoon it into his mouth. It was still luke-warm - he hadn't realised how hungry he was. "I thought she said she wouldn't stay past eleven."

"Must have been held up." His father pressed the parchment down and lifted the quill again, covering more of it with his swirly writing. "She shouldn't be too much longer, though. I thought I'd finish these vault entry records in the meantime, since I took a half-day to host our guests."

There was a sourness to his tone that Scorpius recognised well. His father worked at a desk in Gringotts bank, overseeing loans and currency exchanges. He had his own office upstairs, with a handful of wizards and witches following his orders, but had to report to Bill Weasley, and frequently deal with goblins. In addition to these attractiveprospects, the work seemed mind-numbingly boring. However, there hadn't been many other places willing to employ a former Death Eater after the War.

Scorpius had finished his stew and placed the bowl in the sink, where the scrubbing brush eagerly resumed work, when there was a knocking sound on the window. Looking up curiously, he unlatched it, and ducked as a haughty, official-looking owl swept into the room, alighting on the windowsill. His father set down his work, turning in his seat, startled.

"What is it, Scorpius?" he asked, watching as his son tugged the roll of parchment from the owl's claws, and stopped short.

"It's a… a Ministry Howler," he said quietly, turning the roll in his hand to look at the seal as the owl flapped through the window once more.

"Hand it over," his father said, his expression unreadable. He stood from the table, and Scorpius passed the parchment to him. Quickly, his father opened it, and the Howler drifted down to rest on the table. The parchment unfolding itself, and commenced its speech in an absurdly calm wizard's voice that filled the room.

"_Dear Mr Draco Malfoy,_

_We regret to inform you that your wife, Astoria, has been arrested by the Ministry of Magic on suspicion of poisoning Hermione Granger, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, at the wedding of Edward Lupin and Victoire Weasley. She is currently being detained in Ministry headquarters. Your presence is required when convenient. Please send us your reply as soon as possible._

_Hoping you are well,_

_Yours sincerely, _

_Clive Pratt_

_Auror Office_

_Ministry of Magic._"

On signing off, the parchment promptly exploded, showering ash across the table.

Scorpius's ears were ringing from the wizard's voice. He stood, feeling suddenly very numb, as his father hastily scribbled a reply, his face white, loosing their own owl from its cage and fixing the parchment to its claws.

"They can't just…" Scorpius tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. His father ignored him, closing the window behind their owl as it took off into the night. He strode into the hall and Scorpius followed behind, watching as his father fastened his travelling cloak around his neck. "Where are you going?"

"To the Ministry. And you're not coming, Scorpius."

"Yes, I am!" His voice was loud in the wide, silent hall. "I _have _to! Mum needs us there… If they're detaining her…"

"You're staying here," his father repeated shortly, his grey eyes boring into his son's identical ones. "It could be dangerous." He returned to the dining room and moved to the fireplace, scooping a handful of Floo Powder from the mantelpiece and scattering it on the hearth.

"But - "

Green flames shot up, illuminating the dark marble on either side, and, with a warning glance at his son, Draco Malfoy took the remaining Floo Powder with him. "Just in case you get any ideas about following me. Get some sleep, I'll see you in the morning. "

"Dad - " Scorpius said desperately, but his father was already stepping into the green flames and shouting, "_The Ministry of Magic_!" At his shout, the flames whirled him away into nothingness, and vanished.

Scorpius did not sleep. He lay fully-clothed on the covers and waited, as the darkness around him intensified, listening to the awful silence of the house around him. And waited. And waited.

He stared at the ceiling, which his father had enchanted to look like a night-sky when he was much younger, at the height of his childhood passion for astronomy. The stars twinkled down at him, and he tried to distract himself by naming the constellations… But it was no use; all he could see when he looked at them was his mother in plain grey robes, being carted off to Azkaban, locked in a cell among the Death Eaters, cowering pale and helpless in a corner –

No. They could _not _do that to her. Or to them. What had they done in their lives to deserve this, suspicion and distrust at every turn? His dad may have been a Death Eater, but his mother had _never _been involved with them…

Though an angry, irrational part of him wanted to march straight to the Ministry on foot - there was another part of him, small and loathsome, that whispered those dreaded, impossible words he did not want to acknowledge, or even consider…

_What if she did it_?

In the dark hours of the early morning, there was something like a _thump_ downstairs. Scorpius had slipped into an uneasy doze; he sprang off the bed and ran to the kitchen. There he saw, with immense, overwhelming relief, Astoria Greengrass climbing out of the fireplace, sweeping the powder from her robes. She looked exhausted, but alert. Though she had the same sharp green eyes, her face was fuller than her sister's, and she wore her black hair loose, tumbling around her shoulders in soft, meticulously-styled curls.

The Malfoys were not the sort of family that engaged in physical expressions of affection very often. When greeting each other or bidding farewell, they preferred to simply shake hands or kiss a cheek. But in the present moment, Scorpius felt fully justified in striding the last few steps to the fireplace and embracing his mother. "Are you all right?"

She held him tightly for a moment, then pulled back, scanning his face. He had grown over the summer, and now stood almost a foot taller than her. "It's not me I'm worried about, Scorpius. You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

"I couldn't," he said hoarsely, just as his father appeared in another burst of green flames, and stepped out of the fireplace. "What happened?"

"Hermione Granger is in St Mungo's – she might live," his mother said, taking a seat in the nearest chair, her eyes still fixed keenly on her son's. "And after some consideration, the Ministry decided to release me for the time being. Insufficient evidence. It helped that your father did some negotiating, too. But I have a hearing next Wednesday."

"Wednesday? That's the same day - "

"- that you return to school, yes," his father finished, setting a hand on the back of the chair where his mother sat. He had dark circles under his eyes, and looked even paler than usual. "And no, you will not attend the hearing instead. Things are still proceeding as normal, Scorpius. I want you to forget about all of this."

"I'm almost of age," Scorpius said, matching his father's calm, cool tone. "How can you expect me to forget something like this? Everyone will know soon. It's probably in the _Prophet _already."

"We don't expect you to forget, Scorpius," his mother said wearily. "But there's nothing you can do to help, so it would be best if you tried to put it out of your mind."

"Are you even going to tell me what happened?" He stared at her in disbelief, then at his father. Both stern, uncompromising. After a moment like that, he turned on his heel and pushed open the door. His mother's voice stopped him.

"Scorpius," she said softly, and he turned back to look at her. "Scorpius, I didn't do it. That's all you need to know."

There was something desperate in her green eyes. He did not respond, but left the room, closing the door behind him.

Much, much later, after his parents had gone to bed, Scorpius stepped out quietly into the landing to get some water (he _still_ couldn't sleep) and heard the low rumble of their voices through the walls of the house. He stopped beside their door, unable to help himself, and listened.

"…if not for that Weasley girl," his mother was saying. "Hermione Granger's daughter. She told them that she saw me nearby before it happened."

"I told you not to go," he heard his father say, sounding pained. "I told you they'd be suspicious, they'd think - "

"I had to pay my respects!" she snapped. "You _know _I had to." Then, to Scorpius' shock, her voice began to shake. His mother never cried. "I just don't understand it, Draco. We've kept our heads down since the War, we've never _once _looked for trouble…"

"Astoria." His father spoke so softly that Scorpius had to strain to hear. His voice was rough, as though he too was close to tears. "This is my fault."

"No, Draco." Her voice was firm again. "It's mine."


	4. Questions

**_Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling_**

**Chapter 4: Questions**

It was six in the morning, and the Potions and Plant Poisoning floor of St Mungo's Hospital was almost deserted. Cold, white halls stretched endlessly, lined with closed doors to wards, revealing nothing of the patients contained within. Healers swept by with a rustle of lime-green robes, but none spared a glance for the young boy and girl seated on a bench outside the Pollingtonious Ward, fast asleep.

At the creak of a door, Rose's eyes lifted open. Hugo was snoring gently against her shoulder. It seemed startlingly quiet here – the night at the Burrow had been a blur of relatives coming and going, hugging the two teenagers tightly and assuring them with trembling voices that everything was going to be all right. The crowd of Weasleys had followed them to St Mungo's, but there they had been separated. As immediate family, only Rose and Hugo had been allowed to proceed to the third floor, while the rest waited downstairs in reception.

Rose's head was pounding from crying all night. Everything seemed muffled around her, as though her ears were stuffed with wool. She looked around and saw her father for the first time since the wedding, emerging from the ward. Closing the door softly behind him, Ron Weasley gave her a watery smile.

"Dad," she croaked, easing Hugo's head off her shoulder and rising to her feet.

He enclosed her in a tight hug, his whiskers scratching her cheek, his breathing laboured. She buried her face in his shoulder for a moment, inhaling his comforting scent. Then, pulling away, she looked at him, trying to read his expression. "H-how is she?"

"She'll live," her father said, rubbing a hand against his eyes. He looked as dazed and tired as she felt. "Healer Dombryck says they managed to get most of the poison out of her system. She's still unconscious, though. Blimey, we were lucky, Rosie… I got her here fast, and she didn't drink a lot of the wine."

The words dimly registered in Rose's mind. The wine, the wedding… she felt it was all important but couldn't quite remember how. "Can I - can I see her?" she asked tentatively, afraid of the answer.

But her father nodded slowly. "You can go in first. I'll wake Hugo." He made his way to the bench where his son was slumped, still asleep. Rose put her hand on the door, breathed in deeply, then pushed it open and stepped inside.

The ward was private, for which she was thankful. A white, sterile room, the left corner was occupied by a bed with undrawn curtains, a hard wooden chair beside it. Smoke curled against the morning horizon above the rooftops of London, grey and dreary, and Rose looked through the window at it for a moment before moving to the bed. On the adjacent wall, an ancient wizard with a bulbous nose, snored loudly in his portrait, a golden plaque below him reading: _Horatio Pollingtonious_.

Hermione Granger lay against the spotless pillows, her bushy brown hair, streaked with some grey, fanned out around her face. She looked a little paler than usual, but otherwise normal. It was as though she were sleeping peacefully; Rose half-expected her to open her eyes at any moment to smile at her, or give her one of those stern, shrewd gazes that saw through everything.

She sat in the chair numbly, trying to derive some comfort from what her father had said outside the ward. _She'll live_. _She'll live_. _They say she'll live_. One of her mother's hands was dangling limply from the bed, and Rose took it in both of hers. It was soft and warm, and sent a momentary flare of hope through her.

"Mum," she said quietly. "Mum, I swear I'm going to find out who did this to you. And… they're going to be sorry." Feeble as they were, the words made her feel slightly better. She sat there for some time, blinking through tears, and watched the rise and fall of her mother's chest under the covers.

"Will that _really_ help anyone, my dear?" came a weary voice from behind her, and turning, startled, she saw the wizard called Pollingtonious sitting up in his portrait, bleary-eyed. "Vengeance destroys all in its path. But healing is one of the greatest gifts in our world. Healing is what saved your mother's life. Perhaps you should think about that."

Stung, Rose let go of her mother's hand and glared at him. "I _have_ thought about it. I'm going to be a Healer when I leave school."

The wizard's bulbous nose quivered as he began to chuckle. "Oh, dear. I did not mean as a vocation. You may do many great things in life, my girl, but healing most certainly will not be one of them. I should know; I co-wrote _The Healer's Helpmate_."

"I read it – it's rubbish," Rose retorted rudely. Letting go of her mother's hand, she got to her feet. "Now perhaps _you_ should mind your own business."

With one last chuckle, the wizard in the portrait reluctantly obliged.

* * *

Scorpius entered the kitchen at noon to see his mother standing by the table, her face contorted with frustration as she traced a slow circle in the air with her wand. Whatever incantation she was performing, she was doing it silently, but he could tell that it was no ordinary household spell.

"What are you doing?" he said, puzzled, and she twisted, startled at the sight of him.

Her eyes were too bright, her cheeks unusually flushed – she looked agitated, unhealthy. "Oh good, you're up," she said after a moment, letting her wand-hand drop to her side. "I thought you were your father. You grow more like him every day, you know – your voice, your looks, everything."

"So I've heard," Scorpius said uncomfortably. "But what are you doing?"

"Just trying to clean up a bit," she replied, her tone a bit too casual. "You should get some breakfast, Scorpius; you must be hungry. I hope you got some sleep after last night."

"A bit, yes. Why aren't you at work? Have they given you time off because of…" He instantly regretted asking the question, when his mother gave an involuntary grimace. Smoothing down her black hair with one hand, she appeared be composing herself.

"I'll be at home from now on, Scorpius. The Ministry has suspended me without pay. I received a letter from them this morning."

Scorpius stared at her. "But they can't - "

"Yes, they can, Scorpius," she said calmly. "I was arrested, and by the same establishment that I am employed by. Obliviators must be trustworthy individuals, with clean criminal records. Along with the Aurors, ours - _theirs_ is the most important task in the wizarding world: upholding the Statute of Secrecy."

"But you're only a suspect, they don't know – I mean, they don't have any proof - that you were responsible," Scorpius insisted. "It isn't fair."

His mother shook her head. "They do have some proof." Her green eyes caught his, and she looked suddenly anxious. "You did believe me last night, didn't you? When I told you that I had nothing to do with it? Because I would never lie to you, Scorpius. I need you to know that."

"I do," he broke in hastily, his eyes moving away from hers. "I believe you, Mum, I know you wouldn't - "

She stepped closer to him, seized his wrist. "No. I can see your doubt. Look at me, Scorpius. You _must _believe me – the evidence may point in my direction, you may hear people saying different things in school, but I need you to know _now_ that I did not poison Hermione Granger. I had no reason to."

"Mum - "

Her voice grew louder in her desperation, her grip on his wrist tightening. "I don't care if the whole world believes differently, but I can't have you – my son – think of me as a murderer."

Scorpius gently pried her hand away from his wrist. There was a red mark on his skin now from where she had clutched him. "Mum," he said slowly, measuredly, "Don't talk like that. I will always believe you, no matter what people say. You're my _mother_."

His words barely seemed to register with her; she was staring at his wrist, guilt in her eyes. Warily, Scorpius took a few steps backwards before she could grab it again, moving to the pantry door to get some cereal.

"I was thinking it might be nice if we got some lunch in town," his mother said suddenly as he was turning the door handle. "Just you and me. Would you be ready to leave in the next ten minutes?"

Scorpius's eyes narrowed at the abrupt change of subject. "Is there some reason you want to leave the house?"

His mother had raised her wand, her face set like stone once more. Gradually, she seemed to be returning to her normal self. "There was something else in that letter I received. A notice, to temporarily lift security on our house."

"Why?"

"So that the Ministry can come and search it for evidence."

* * *

"What did you find out last night?" Rose asked anxiously, shoving a pumpkin pasty into her mouth. The pleasant tearoom on the top floor of the hospital, with brightly-painted walls and a chirpy young serving witch, had begun to fill up with visitors as the morning wore on.

Aunt Ginny had taken Rose upstairs for a bite to eat while her father and Hugo stayed with her mum. She sat across from her now at the little round table, clad in dark robes, red hair tied back in a tight ponytail. The lines of her face were more pronounced than before. "I don't know that much, being honest. It's been a crazy night. Except…"

"Except?" Rose persisted, leaning forward in her seat. Her aunt seemed slightly uncomfortable at her eagerness.

"Well, Harry dropped into reception a few hours ago. He told me…" For a moment, she was silent, apparently debating whether or not to continue, then seemed to come to some kind of decision. "He told me that they arrested someone."

"What? _Who_?"

Aunt Ginny looked at her strangely, then spoke again, her voice quiet. "Rosie, he said you described someone to him last night, someone you saw at the wedding. Someone who seemed suspicious. Is that true?"

"I… it's hard to remember." She cast her mind back over the dizzying blur of the night before, searching, and then, with a jolt, remembered her uncle Apparating in just after they arrived in the Burrow. And she had told him…

"Yes," she said at last. "I saw a dark-haired witch, near Mum's table, when I was going out for some fresh air. She was giving me a nasty look because I'd spilt Butterbeer on her earlier; I thought it was rather strange, but -" Her eyes locked on her aunt's, alarmed. "You're saying they _arrested _her just because of what I said to Uncle Harry?"

"No, not just that." Ginny's mouth tightened. "Harry looked into it after you told him, and some other people had noticed her behaving strangely too – apparently she kept trying to get as close to the bride's family as possible. And then I asked Bill and Fleur… And it turns out this woman wasn't supposed to be there at all. They never sent her an invitation. She _certainly _isn't a friend of the family, either."

"So you know her?" Rose felt her stomach twist into furious knots, and shoved her plate away from her, unable to eat any more. "Who is she?"

"I can't tell you her name, Rosie. Not here. It's not for definite yet, anyway. The Ministry took her in for questioning last night."

But she could see the anger in her aunt's face, barely concealed, and the tense way she held herself. It was as though she was refraining from leaping to her feet and hexing everyone in the room, just to _do _something. Rose understood – that was the way she felt, too. She wanted to know everything at once, just so that she could feel less _useless_. Asking questions helped.

"The same thing happened to your dad, you know," Ginny said suddenly, twisting a napkin in her hands and avoiding her niece's gaze. "In his sixth year, at Hogwarts. A bottle of mead poisoned by Draco Malfoy, intended for Dumbledore. I still remember all of us, standing around his bed. Merlin, he almost died. We'd had been arguing a lot that year, too – I remember thinking how stupid it all was."

"I know," Rose said quietly, unsure of what else to say. She had heard the story many times. Then something occurred to her. "Do you think that this case is similar?"

Her aunt gave her a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean – when Dad was poisoned, it was meant for someone else, right? Well, do you think it was the same with - " she swallowed, and summoned the words, " – with my mum? That the poison was intended for someone else? Like Uncle Harry?"

"Oh." Ginny paused, and frowned. "Yes, it's a possibility." Her eyes met Rose's. "But your mum _has_ made a lot of enemies in the last twenty years. All the new acts she's passed: protecting house-elves and Muggles, eradicating pro-pureblood laws… Some people in the wizarding world don't like that. More than we like to admit, I think. And now, with her as head of Magical Law Enforcement. – she was bound to be a target sooner or later. We should have been more cautious at the wedding."

The two were silent for some time, listening to the bustle of the tearoom around them. Aunt Ginny had shredded her napkin into tiny pieces by the time Rose spoke again.

"There must be something else," she said, not taking her eyes off her aunt. "Another piece of evidence. They couldn't have just arrested that witch on the grounds of her not being invited to the wedding. I mean, what about the wine – how can they be sure that she poisoned it?"

"I can't say any more, Rosie." Ginny stared down at her empty plate for a moment, then swept the shredded napkin pieces onto it. "We should get going soon."

"You were gone most of the night, too, weren't you?" Rose recalled, barely listening. "I barely saw you in the Burrow, and almost everyone else was there all night, comforting me and Hugo. What were you doing?"

"Making inquiries," her aunt said evasively. She rooted in her pocket and drew out a Sickle and a few Knuts, placing them on the table and making eye-contact with the serving witch. Then, at last, she looked at her niece again, and sighed. "Fine. If I answer some of your questions now, will you promise not to do anything stupid?"

"Of course," Rose said hastily, but her aunt leaned in closer, lowering her voice, her eyes serious once more, boring into hers.

"You're not a child anymore, Rosie. You're almost a fully-grown witch, and that's why I'm trusting you to behave like one. Because you _need _to realise how much danger you're in. Someone has targeted your mother, and we don't know even know who. What's to stop them from going for your father next? Or your brother? Or _you_?"

A chill shivered down Rose's spine, and she nodded again. "I understand."

"Glad to hear it." Her aunt stood as the serving-witch came over, smiling brightly at them, and hovered their plates away. "Now, come with me."

"But - " Rose followed her out of the crowded tearoom, weaving around tables and sensing gazes on her back. "Where are we going?"

"To get you some answers."

* * *

They sat outside a white-fronted café in Bethnal Green. Scorpius, clad in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, his short, white-blond hair neatly combed, stretched out his long legs before him, propping his chin on his left hand as his mother ordered them tea and toast. Piles of taxis and cars jostled for space on the busy street beyond, impatiently blasting their horns when pedestrians dashed across; their broad, metallic coats gleamed in the dull daylight like those of strange insects.

Every now and then, the table would shudder as an underground train passed beneath them with a rumble. Muggles hurried along the pavement beside the café, little silver phones pressed to their ears, eyes determinedly fixed ahead. _Always_ fixed ahead. Scorpius watched them as they passed. He wondered how many times each of them must have come close to uncovering their world - yet never quite managing it, because of people like his mother.

"They should be gone by dinnertime," his mother said conversationally.

"Who? Oh, yeah. Good." He had almost forgotten, for a moment. They had stepped out of the townhouse just as the grim-faced Ministry officials appeared in the square, camouflaged in Muggle clothing. Astoria Malfoy had nodded briefly to them as they passed, ushering Scorpius along as though he were a little boy again.

"We have nothing to hide, after all," she continued in an undertone, with an acknowledging smile to the waiter as he set two cups before them.

"Well, what kind of evidence is the Ministry looking for, anyway?"

"Anything that can be used against me in the hearing next week. The only substantial charge they could bring against me last night was that I hadn't been invited to the wedding. And at least I can disprove that - I _did _receive an invitation."

"So all you have to do is present the Wizengamot with that invitation, and they'll be forced to investigate further, and it will become clear that you weren't responsible. Won't it?"

Setting her teacup down, his mother's mouth twisted, as though she has tasted some bitter. "I would hope so, Scorpius. But…"

"But what?" he said, watching her closely. "What is it?"

Astoria Malfoy glanced around, which was a rather unnecessary precaution; they were the only customers eating outside, and the blare of carhorns would easily drown out their words to anyone else who may have been eavesdropping. Then her eyes met Scorpius's, and she said in a low voice, "I think there must be something deeper going on, beneath all of this. _Someone _wants me to be blamed for what happened, someone with power and influence in the Ministry. And whoever they are, they're not going to let a piece of parchment get in their way."

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, sipping their tea in silence as the waiter bustled around behind them, wiping the tables down. Scorpius was gratified that his mother had spoken so openly to him for once. Someone was pulling the strings… But what, or who?

"Do you think the Weasleys are behind it themselves?" he said suddenly as soon as the door had swung closed behind the waiter. The question surprised him with its directness. Had it been swimming around in his head since the Howler had arrived yesterday?

His mother, on the other hand, looked as though she had been expecting it. "It's not to be ruled out," she said quietly, "But I think if the Weasleys wanted to discredit me or Draco, they would have done so without endangering a member of their own family."

Scorpius nodded, though he was not quite so sure himself. He glanced up as the waiter emerged once more, setting a tray of toast before them. Each slice was cut into neat triangles, topped with a tasteful amount of butter. His mother took a slice for herself, smiling, once the waiter had left. "Now for the love of Merlin, let's eat," she said lightly, "And forget all about the wizarding world for just a few minutes."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"Wait for me here," Aunt Ginny said quietly as they reached the ground floor of St Mungo's. She turned right, towards reception, walking briskly, her robes swishing around her ankles. Tense with curiosity, Rose waited by the bottom of the crowded staircase, standing a little aside, and watched the green-robed Healers hurrying past with clipboards, interspersed with chattering visitors.

Rose had always liked St Mungo's, since she was small - the sharp, clean smell, the determined air of optimism maintained by all, and the silent understanding that seemed to exist between every visitor: that everyone was suffering in some way or another. When she watched the Healers, they always seemed so purposeful and earnest; there was an order to all that they did. Perhaps it was this that had first drawn Rose to the profession, before she had even started at school.

She drew some curious glances from the passersby, and realised for the first time how she must look. Under the baggy grey robes she had been given at the Burrow, she was still wearing the blue bridesmaid's dress. Her hair, so carefully conditioned, straightened and styled by Lily the previous morning, was a frizzy red mess now, her face puffy and swollen from crying. Vaguely, she thought of what a relief it would be to get back home and clean herself up again.

After some minutes' waiting, her aunt appeared through the crowd, Andromeda Tonks in tow. The tall old witch had changed into plainer robes of purple, and paled when she saw Rose. She pressed forward, taking her hand in both of hers.

"We've been in reception all night, waiting for some news. I've been so worried about you, dear, and for your brother too – children should never see such things." She paused, then asked in a lower voice, as people milled around them. "How is your mother?"

"She's all right." Rose attempted a smile, though she felt confused as to why Ginny had fetched Andromeda in the first place. "They say she'll live."

Andromeda seemed to sag slightly, and closed her eyes for a moment. "I heard, but was not sure if it was true. Thank Merlin. Thank… thank Merlin." She did not seem capable of saying anything else in her relief.

"Andromeda," Ginny said respectfully, coming to the witch's other side. "I know you already spoke to me last night, and I'm very grateful, but Rose had some questions too about… what happened."

"Of course she does." Andromeda looked into Rose's eyes, earnestly. "It is hard, not knowing the full truth, but those who keep it from you do so for your own protection. I hope you know that, child. Well, we had better go somewhere quieter, and I will tell you what I can."

Five minutes later, they had relocated to an empty administrator's office on the other side of the Artefact Accidents ward. He had loaned it to them graciously after a few murmured words with Ginny Potter. They sat around the polished wooden desk, the surrounding walls dazzlingly white, the empty corridor visible through the glass door to the office.

"I want to know about the wine," Rose said abruptly, before either of the witches could talk, leaning her elbows on the desk. "How did a bottle of poisoned wine get past the Aurors? And…" A sudden memory struck her, of passing her mother and Andromeda at the table. "You offered me some of it. That must have meant you tasted it too, but how - "

"I did," Andromeda said, looking solemn. "I had a whole flagon of it, my dear. Your mother had been sipping at her own goblet for the past hour without being affected. There was nothing wrong with the _bottle_, or else many more at the wedding would have been affected. _I_ would have been affected, and I may not have borne it as well as your mother did."

"Well? She's lying unconscious in a ward upstairs, you call that _well_? She might never wake up!" The words were out, louder and harsher than Rose had intended them, and the raw, ugly fear that ran beneath them was something she barely recognised. She sensed her aunt looking at her in concern, from where she sat in the chair beside her. Andromeda, facing them behind the Healer's desk, flinched, but remained calm.

"She's still alive," she said with dignity. "And she will wake up, I promise you. Your mother is strong. _That_ is all I meant."

Rose nodded, feeling a slight flush come to her cheeks at the outburst. "I'm sorry, Mrs Tonks. I know you didn't mean anything. But – how was my mother the only one affected? Did someone add it to her drink?"

"Here's where things get interesting," Ginny said grimly, speaking for the first time.

"They do indeed." Andromeda looked intently at Rose. "Not long after you left for fresh air, my dear, someone else came over to our table. A very handsome woman. She said she had come to pay her respects to our family. We offered her some of the wine; she declined politely." She paused, as though it was a struggle to get the words out. "We were then briefly distracted by a spectacle on the dancefloor – your brother and cousins playing some prank or other, I think, though I cannot quite recall... When we looked back, the witch had disappeared into the crowd."

"She slipped the poison into Mum's drink while she was looking away," Rose breathed, feeling simultaneously furious, fascinated and frightened.

"That was what I thought." Andromeda sighed. She suddenly looked very weary; the mask of calm she had maintained throughout their conversation seemed to have fallen away.

"It wasn't your fault, Dromeda," Ginny said fiercely, as though continuing some earlier conversation. "You didn't know - "

"I should have," the old witch said softly. Tears were glistening in her eyes. "I should have been watching out for your mother, Rose. And my grandson, too… he could have been the one they poisoned. After everything that happened in the war – with Ted, and Nymphadora, and Remus… Merlin knows I've lost enough family already."

"Don't worry about Teddy," Aunt Ginny said firmly, "He and Victoire are out of the country by now, on their honeymoon to Malta. They'll be safe. Anyway, whoever was behind this, I think their target was Hermione, or one of those closest to her."

Rose felt a chill run through her again, like she had earlier in the tearoom. It was not an entirely bad feeling - spontaneously, she was reminded of that momentary brightness in Harry's eyes at the wedding, after everything had happened.

"I should be getting back," Andromeda said, rising from the desk.

"Of course," Ginny said, getting to her feet. "So should we. Rose needs to be with her family. Thank you, Andromeda. I thought it better that she know the facts than - "

"Just one last question?" Rose pleaded as Andromeda moved around the desk, holding out her hand. "The woman who poisoned my mother. Who is she?"

Andromeda exchanged a glance with Ginny, who nodded, then turned back to Rose. "Astoria Malfoy," she said stiffly. "Her name is Astoria Malfoy."

The thrill Rose had felt mere moments ago evaporated at the witch's utterance. Now she only felt sick dread, fury… and clarity. Cold clarity. She knew now where she had seen that green-eyed witch before – at King's Cross countless times, embracing her pale, blond-haired son, Scorpius, who was in her year. But from a distance.

Always from a distance. Her family would pretend not to watch the Malfoys, and the Malfoys would pretend not to watch them. But the deep enmity that remained between her parents and Draco Malfoy from their days in school was impossible to ignore, much as they tried to pretend that everyone was at peace. After all, one never forgot their childhood tormentors. It simply was not possible.

And now, that peace was beginning to shatter in their minds. Rose had seen it, in the clenched anger of her aunt's expression, the sadness in Andromeda's eyes. Now, for the first time since the war, they had reason to hate the Malfoys once more.

* * *

By the time they returned to the square, after spending much of the day wandering aimlessly through arcades and street-markets (staying well away from the Leaky Cauldron; his mother did not wish to encounter any wizards or witches who may have already heard the news) evening was drawing its heavy curtains over the city, and the townhouse was empty.

"Do you think they found anything?" Scorpius asked as they stepped into the hall.

"We won't know until the hearing." His mother squeezed his shoulder. "But I don't think they did. There's no use worrying about it now."

Such futile advice, Scorpius reflected. Worrying was all he could do. He retired to his bedroom early, following a tense, rigid dinner of cold leftovers, rife with meaningful glances shared between his parents and unspoken anxieties. A folded piece of parchment sat waiting for him on his bed. Opening it, he recognised the slanted handwriting immediately.

_Scorpius,_

_I read about your mum in the _Prophet_. Didn't believe a word of it. The whole thing seems like a set-up to me. Dad and Gran don't believe it either. Anyway, the Wizengamot can't convict on so little evidence. It's ridiculous._

_Found something that might cheer you up, though. The latest _Quibbler_ arrived a few minutes ago. Check it out._

_Jem_

Why his best friend still subscribed to that rag every month, Scorpius could not fathom, but decided to indulge his wishes all the same, and scan the carefully cut-out article that was Spellotaped to the rest of the parchment. A caricature drawing of a red-haired wizard with pimply skin and horn-rimmed glasses grinned malevolently up at Scorpius, and a bold, black headline emblazoned across his chest read:

**Percy Weasley… or Fudge Reborn?**

_Is the recent arrest of Astoria Malfoy, wife of a prominent Gringotts worker, simply another strike in the Ministry's long-dormant Goblin Vendetta? The newly-elected Minister for Magic, Percy Weasley, is known to have served under 'Goblin-Crusher' Cornelius Fudge in his youth, yet he claims that he has not inherited any of his former superior's gold-grabbing ambitions._

_BUT HAS HE?_

_According to a Ministry insider, on receiving news of his election, Percy Weasley loudly expressed his relief at now being able to follow in his former superior's footsteps. "Jumping up and down in joy, so he was, and he started rambling on and on about the gold of Gringotts with us all there, saying how he'd make old Fudge proud of him…"_

_Could it be that by arresting Astoria Malfoy, Percy Weasley is at last setting carefully-laid plans for the infiltration of Gringotts in motion? An expert informed us of the possibilities. "By arresting all of the wizards and witches working there and leaving the goblins vulnerable, Weasley plans to stage an attack on the bank, brutally slaying all of the goblins working there and thereby seizing control of all the gold in wizarding Britain."_

_The only question is: WHERE WILL HE STRIKE NEXT?_

Putting down the article, Scorpius found himself smiling. He made a mental note to show it to his father later. He felt a great deal lighter – unconsciously, he had been fearing his friend's reaction to the news. Now, he only had the rest of Hogwarts to worry about.

* * *

"I hope you understand that you can't tell anyone about this," Aunt Ginny said urgently, as they stood outside the Pollingtonious Ward once more. "Your dad would_ kill _me if he knew. Harry told him it all this morning, but he's been finding it hard to take it in. It would be even worse if he thought you were trying to deal with it too… the fact that your mother was a deliberate target."

"I know," Rose said quietly. "I won't tell anyone, don't worry."

"Good girl." Ginny pulled her into a brief hug. "I knew you'd be strong about this, Rosie. Now, I'd better get back to the kids. You'll be all right here?"

"I will." As her aunt began to walk away, Rose called after her, "Thank you. For believing in me."

Ginny Potter turned, and smiled. "I've always believed in you, Rosie."

As soon as she was gone, Rose collapsed onto the empty bench she had slept the night on, and let her breath out in a whoosh. She was so tired… so worried… It was hard to believe that at this time yesterday, they had all been at the wedding reception, drinking Butterbeer and dancing, her mother safe and healthy and smiling, her only trouble being that she felt hemmed in by all of the people around her. How had so much changed in so little time?

The sudden opening of door lifted her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Hugo emerge from the ward - pale, wide-eyed and breathing fast. Rose leapt to her feet and clutched at him, panic rising within her. "What's wrong? Is it Mum? Is she worse? Merlin, say something!"

Hugo opened his mouth, then closed it again. "She's… she's awake."

_**A.N: Back to Hogwarts in the next chapter, I promise! From now on, I'll be updating roughly at the start of every month, though that may change. And proper Rose/Scorpius interaction will take place - in good time. Review if you wish…**_


	5. Patrols and Platforms

_**A.N: Our hero and heroine finally meet in this chapter! The first three may have seemed disjointed – I see them as a kind of extended prologue. But now that our characters are returning to Hogwarts, the story can really begin. Enjoy!**_

**Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling.**

**Chapter 5: Patrols and Platforms**

"So, are you excited for sixth year?"

"Not really." Rose shrugged, playing with the cover absentmindedly as she sat at the end of her mother's hospital bed in her school robes. "I mean, I'll be glad to be back at Hogwarts, of course… but I just feel strange, with the hearing and everything."

"You shouldn't." Hermione Granger was leaning back against the bedstead, propped up by pillows, the blankets tucked up to her chest. Her hair was neatly brushed, and encouraging spots of colour had returned to her cheeks. A pile of parchment sat on her lap, marked with a quill; she had insisted on her work being mailed to her from the Ministry.

The walls of the Pollingtonious Ward, much to its namesake's chagrin, were lined with hundreds of colourful get-well cards that had been delivered to them over the past week, some enchanted to sing merry, uplifting tunes, others sending out showers of fragrant petals that littered her mother's bedclothes at random intervals - so that it was no longer the cheerless, sterile place Rose had visited on the first day. Slabs of Honeydukes chocolate were stacked on the bedside tables, topped with boxes of Bertie Bott's and multitudes of Chocolate Frogs. Though all of them had been tested for poison before entering the ward, her mother still had not touched a single one.

"Do _you _think the Malfoy woman did it?" Rose blurted before she could help herself, then looked down. "I'm sorry, Mum, you probably don't want to talk about it - "

"No, I don't." Her mother reached out and smoothed her daughter's hair, giving a weak smile. "But I know you, Rosie. You're never content unless you get an answer. Ginny told me she brought you to talk to Andromeda last week."

"Did - did she tell you…"

"What Andromeda said? Yes." Hermione raised her eyebrows at Rose's incredulous expression. "She knew I could handle it better than Ron. _And _I was able to confirm it. The last thing I remember – before it all happened - was Astoria Malfoy coming over to our table and talking to us. It seemed strange, since I never spoke to that woman in my life before, and she and Draco have always kept their distance from us. But I thought at the time, perhaps because Andromeda is her husband's aunt, she felt the need to pay her respects on his behalf, or something…"

"And now? What do you think now, Mum?" The ward seemed suddenly quieter than it had before. The merry tune issuing from one of the get-well cards was more sombre and subdued. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw that Pollingtonious was leaning forward eagerly in his portrait, trying not to look as though he was interested in their conversation.

Her mother regarded her sternly over her reading glasses. "What _I_ think has nothing to do with it. The Wizengamot will make an informed decision, based on the evidence and testimony that they are given, and your uncle Percy will be presiding over them. The Potters are going, and they'll let us know exactly what happens."

An audible sigh of disappointment emanated from the portrait. Rose was silent for a moment, pondering her mother's words. Then the door behind them opened, and Hugo came into the ward, followed by their father. "We'd better get to King's Cross, Rosie. It's quarter to eleven."

"Good luck at school, love," her mother said, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek. "Promise me you'll be careful, and stay out of trouble. Same goes for you, Hugo." Rose stood back to let her brother in. The fourteen-year-old hugged his mother fiercely, and when he moved away from the bed, she saw the glitter of tears in his eyes.

Ron kissed her next. "I'll be back after I've seen them off."

"Be good!" she called as they left the ward. "I'll see you both at Christmas!"

_Christmas_. It was too long till then, too long not to see her mother's face, not to know how she was doing, to hear from her only in letters. For the first time, Rose predicted the long school-months stretching ahead of them with a dread that had nothing to do with the heavy sixth-year workload.

* * *

Scorpius's father saw him off at the entrance to King's Cross, which was already bustling with Muggles. "You'll have to go the rest of the way yourself. I need to get to the hearing early."

"All right," said Scorpius, though something sank within him at the thought of the hearing, and his mother sitting in the centre of the courtroom, the Wizengamot assembled all around her. He had said goodbye to her when she left for the Ministry, early that morning, and she had seemed calm and confident as always, but…

As he turned to go, his father placed a hand on his shoulder, his grey eyes serious.

"Scorpius. I say this to you every year, and you've always listened. But after everything that's happened, you might need another reminder. _Keep your head down._ Stay away from the Potters and the Weasleys. Don't talk about them, don't talk _to _them, just - "

"I know, Dad," Scorpius said wearily. Beside him, Gaspard hooted uneasily in his cage where it sat on the school trunk, drawing strange glances from the passing Muggles.

"I'm not saying it'll be easy, Scorpius. Staying away from them will be more difficult than ever before, but you _need _to do it, no matter what happens. For the safety of our family."

"You think they'll rule against her, don't you?" Scorpius raised his eyebrows at his father, feeling a surge of irritation. "She has the invitation. That's concrete evidence! Why do you always expect the worst?"

Draco Malfoy stared at his son, unblinking. "Because that way," he said coolly. "I'm never disappointed. You have to consider the possibility, Scorpius, even if – "

"_No_." Scorpius shook off his father's hand, hoisting the owl cage under his arm and seizing his trunk. "The train's probably arrived by now."

"Scorpius - "

"You'll be late for the hearing, Dad. Just Floo me tonight and tell me how it went, all right?" He dragged his trunk away into the crowd of Muggles without waiting for his father's answer.

* * *

Platform 9¾ was so enveloped in steam when they emerged through the barrier that the other passengers could barely be seen through it. Rose could hear families calling goodbye to each other from the windows of the Hogwarts Express, friends greeting each other enthusiastically. She felt strangely detached from it all, as she made her way along the crowded platform, Hugo and their father trailing in her wake.

"Hi, Rose!" Jackie Saunders, a glamorous girl with pixie-short, glossy brown hair who shared her dormitory at Hogwarts, strode past with her sisters in tow and waved merrily. A vague glimmer of sympathy in her eyes, behind her bright smile, showed that she had heard the news. "How was your summer?"

"Good, thanks," Rose replied, smiling weakly.

"Mine, too! Better hurry, the doors are about to close!" The witch vanished into the steam, and the whistle blew almost at the same moment. Rose turned back to face her family. Her father was already clapping Hugo on the shoulder and speaking quietly to him. Rose could not hear his words over the sound of the train. Then Hugo was moving away, carting his luggage behind him, and her father was embracing her.

"Keep an eye out for him, Rosie," he said into her ear. "He's been hit hard by what happened. And Merlin's sake, _be careful_."

"I will. See you soon, Dad," Rose said hastily, hurrying towards the nearest door and clambering into it, dragging her luggage with her just as the door closed behind.

She rushed to the nearest window with Hugo as the train began to move, waving at her father as he stood on the platform, a lone, red-haired figure, his hand raised in farewell. There was that strange tug within her again, that she had felt earlier in the ward. She struggled to ignore it. Then they rounded a corner, and her father was gone.

The corridor was packed with young witches and wizards searching for compartments. Hugo joined a group of fourth-years while Rose made her way along the train, ducking past owl cages and squeezing around covered broomsticks.

Students turned to look at her as she passed each glass door; it brought a flush to her cheeks, and she kept her eyes fixed on the floor. The whole wizarding world must have heard about her mother by now. She would be answering a lot of questions back in Hogwarts.

"Rose!" Leaning out of one of the compartments was her best friend, Cassie Miller. Short and broad-shouldered, with slanted eyes and coal-black hair, she was a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She looked unusually solemn as she embraced her friend, and beckoned her into the compartment, where some of her other Housemates were seated. They stared at Rose as she entered, making her feel immensely uncomfortable than before.

"I can't stay, sorry," Rose said quickly as her friend opened her mouth to ask a question, and indicated her badge. "Prefect's meeting. Can you mind my stuff till I get back?"

"'Course, yeah," Cassie said, taking her trunk while Rory Finnigan stood amiably to help hoist it into the luggage rack. "I think Albus has already left."

"Great, I'm late then," Rose muttered, and backed out of the compartment. She ran along the corridors to the top of the train, robes flapping behind her, and burst into the prefect's carriage.

It was already full of silent students in their school robes, prefect's badges gleaming in the morning sun that flooded through the windows, all of whom lifted their gazes to regard the tardy prefect as she entered. Rose felt herself flush even redder. "Sorry," she said, dropping into the free seat beside Albus, who smiled at her. Her cousin Lucy, who was the new Head Girl, gave her an appraising look before resuming her speech.

"As I was saying, the prefect patrols this year have been increased at the Headmaster's request. Fifth years and sixth years will now be required to patrol the castle at least two nights a week. Seventh years will have only one patrol night a week, to allow more time for study. A specific area of the castle will be assigned to each patrolling pair. These areas will alternate every month."

The Head Boy, Jonah Robbins, took over from Lucy. "For today, you can patrol the train with your respective Housemates, but we'll be pairing you up with a randomly-selected partner from your year for castle patrols. Each of you will be given the name of your partner, along with your patrol times and the destination for September, at the end of this meeting. Your patrol partner will be changed at Christmas, but not before. I should also remind you all that there's to be _no _swapping of partners if you're not happy with them…"

Rose tried to pay attention. She really did. She tried to ignore the fact that something hot and bubbling was rising within her at the knowledge of _who _exactly was sitting here in the carriage with them, right at that moment, listening to the Head Boy's words. She tried to let her gaze remain on Lucy and Jonah, _tried _not to let it stray, but… it did. It slipped past the sixth-year Ravenclaw prefects, Jason Kloves and Diana Turpin, past the Hufflepuffs, Ed Abercrombie and Summer Birchgrove - past Nina Meyer, and alighted on the tall, pale boy beside her, his white-blond hair neatly combed back, sharp grey eyes fixed on the Head Boy. Scorpius Malfoy.

It made her sick to the stomach to see him sitting there so calmly, listening to the Head Boy's words as though he was just like everyone else. As though he had everyright to be there, with the rest of the prefects – after what his mother had done. And what was worse, Rose thought, her grip tightening on the edge of the seat beside her, gritting her teeth, was that _she_ was forced to sit here, silent and demure, and act as though his presence did not affect her.

Automatically, her hand moved to her pocket, found her wand, and for a moment she considered it - rising to her feet before anyone predicted it and hexing Malfoy, the satisfaction of watching him reel backwards, hand held to his bleeding nose, or his limbs locking together, toppling like a board to the floor. And she would say harshly, "That was for my mother," before storming dramatically out of the carriage.

It was only a moment, really, before rationality returned, along with her mother's words, uttered just this morning. _Promise me you'll be careful, and stay out of trouble_. Rose sighed almost inaudibly, and let go of her wand again. She was preparing to deliberately look away from Malfoy when his eyes shifted from the Head Boy to her.

The carriage suddenly seemed empty and silent around them. She stared at him, mustering all the hatred and hostility that she could into her gaze, expecting him to blink and look away, or glare back. He did neither. Cold, grey-eyed and indifferent, Malfoy watched her, daring her to drop her eyes first.

"Rose Weasley? _Weasley_!" At Albus's nudge Rose looked around, startled, and saw that the Head Boy was addressing her. A few others in the carriage were tittering at her inattention. Lucy looked slightly embarassed on her cousin's behalf.

"What?" she said, more defensively than she had intended, then at the Head Boy's raised eyebrows, spoke again, more politely. "You were talking about patrol partners?"

"We've moved on, Rose," Robbins sighed. "I was saying that you'll be on first-year guiding duties tonight after the feast, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," she replied in the cheerful, deferential tone she normally reserved for teachers, and Robbins seemed somewhat mollified.

"Now, about point deduction…"

Rose listened to every spoken word for the remainder of the meeting, and did not risk losing her concentration again. The carriage grew hot and uncomfortable, the sun beaming in the windows from a rapidly-clearing sky as the train drew away from London. There was a collective sigh of relief when the prefects were dismissed.

Each of them was handed a sheet of parchment with their patrol details inked carefully on before they left the compartment. Rose tucked hers into her shoulder bag without looking at it, and stood outside the door as the other prefects passed, waiting for Albus, who was packing up his things. She grinned at him in greeting when he emerged. "How are you?"

"Good. Merlin, that was _tiring_, though." He yawned as they began to walk along the corridors to the third carriage, which they had been assigned for today. "Why were you late?"

"We were visiting Mum in the hospital. Oi…" Rose stopped, and stared at him in mock alarm, reaching a hand above his head to measure him, then shook her head. "You're taller than me now. When did that happen?"

As they entered the third carriage, two first-year boys spilled out of the compartment ahead of them, yelling. One of them was clutching a Chocolate Frog card, the other chasing him. "That's mine! I opened it first! She's really rare!"

Rose flicked her wand calmly, and the Chocolate Frog card floated out of the boy's grip. "Now no one gets it," she said firmly, moving past them and plucking the card out of the air. "Back in the compartment, both of you."

One of the boys opened his mouth to protest, then caught sight of Albus and quickly shut it again. He darted back into the compartment, followed by his friend.

"I hate when that happens," Albus sighed.

"Yeah, it's so hard being famous, isn't it?" Rose teased, glancing down at the card in her hand. A black-haired, sallow-skinned witch glowered up at her, brandishing a sign that read: _STOP SPELL SUPPRESSION_! Beneath the picture, her name was printed in gold lettering: _Carlotta Pinkstone_.

"So how have you been, Rose? Really?" her cousin continued, lowering his voice as they continued along the corridor.

"Oh, I'm fine." Rose stuffed the card in her pocket. "When do you reckon the lunch trolley will be coming around?"

"Soon, I suppose. But - Rose…" Albus had stopped now, and was looking at her. Behind him, she saw a curious first-year girl press her face to the glass of a compartment door, eyes wide as she watched them. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She shrugged. "Mum's doing better every day. They say she'll be strong enough to return to work in a month or two. We were lucky, really."

"I didn't ask about your mum," Albus said, his green eyes gentle, stepping back to let a group of third-years by. A few of them ogled the two cousins, whispering to each other, before continuing along. "I asked about you. I know - this can't be easy to deal with. Especially with the hearing today, and everything…"

"The Wizengamot will make an informed decision, based on the evidence and testimony they are given," Rose recited, then smiled faintly. "Al, I'm not all that great, but… this isn't really the best place to talk about all that."

"I know – you really shouldn't litter in the corridor, Eva," Albus admonished a fourth-year girl who had just left her compartment, dropping a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans behind her as she chatted to her friend. "We can still deduct points this early in the year, you know."

The girl turned pink, muttered an apology and picked up the box, hurrying away with her friend. Rose turned to Albus, shaking her head. "It never ceases to amaze how you seem to know everyone's name," she remarked. "That's a Head Boy quality right there."

Albus laughed. "Nah, she's a friend of Lily's, came over to the house once or twice." But still he looked pleased, and didn't ask again how Rose was, for which she was immensely grateful.

They patrolled for about a half-hour, most of which was spent talking idly about safe, easy topics like the O.W.L. results that they had received during the summer, the professors, the school year looming before them and the new level of difficulty their subjects would reach. By the time they returned to the Gryffindor compartment, the lunch trolley was making its way around the train.

As they settled among their friends, Rose felt a good deal more relaxed there than she had earlier. She was not the centre of attention as she had feared. Cassie gave her a brief smile before returning to her lively discussion with Rory Finnigan and Mark McLaggen about the Sirens' new album, and Jackie Saunders sat beside her, absorbed in her copy of _Witch Weekly_. Another of her roommates, Penny Alderton, a petite girl with a short, ash-blonde bob and a heart-shaped face, was gazing quietly out at the passing countryside.

After examining his patrol sheet, Albus swore loudly. The others looked around, startled. "What's up, Al?" Rory said after a moment, vaguely amused.

"Nothing," the Gryffindor prefect sighed, "I'm patrolling with Summer Birchgrove, that's all."

"She's really sweet." Jackie had looked up from _Witch Weekly_, raising her pencilled eyebrows.

"And she's easily the fittest girl in our year," Rory supplied, before casting an apologetic glance at the three sixth-year girls in the compartment as they rolled their eyes in unison. "I mean… no offence."

"Yeah, but she has a huge crush on my brother," Albus grumbled. "Along with the rest of the female population of Hogwarts, of course. I sat next to her in Charms last year and all she ever did was ask me about him. It was bloody annoying! I - "

He was interrupted in his rant by Penny's softer tones. "Are you all right, Rose? You've gone pale."

Rose was staring at her own patrol sheet in disbelief. "Please tell me we're changing partners at the end of the month," she said weakly.

"No, not till Christmas," Albus said, bewildered. "Why, who did you get?"

* * *

"It could be worse," Nina Meyer pointed out. "You could have got _Potter_."

Scorpius said nothing, simply replaced the patrol sheet in his diary. Standing, he shoved it back into his trunk, then sat again, staring out at the countryside flashing by the windows… beyond the glittering lakes and towering hills, he could see the purple shades of distant mountains on the horizon. Another hour would probably bring them into Scotland. Turning his head back towards the south for a moment, he wondered what was happening at the hearing back in London.

"Albus Potter's not the worst," he heard Jem counter. "He's not as bad as his brother, anyway… but I guess that's not hard."

"Well, I don't envy you, Scorpius," Orchid Ottelby said seriously. She shook her head. "I mean - _Rose Weasley_. Besides everything else, she's not even pretty. Her hair, and those freckles…"

"I dunno," Torrance Bole said thoughtfully. "She has nice… eyes."

The others joined in as he laughed, while Orchid glowered and punched her boyfriend's arm. "I'll hex you," she threatened. "I swear I will…"

"Ah, crack a smile for once, Malfoy," Carlos Santini said lazily, stretching his arms behind his head and raising his dark eyebrows. "Oh wait – I forgot, you're not meant to badmouth the Weasleys, are you?"

Scorpius looked away from the window, back at his fellow Slytherins. His father's words echoed in his mind. _Don't talk about them, don't talk _to _them_ - but then he saw the Weasley girl, glaring at him across the prefect's carriage… he saw his mother, pale and exhausted, fear in her green eyes as she kissed him goodbye, and suddenly he didn't care.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he met his challenger's eye, and spoke bluntly. "No, Carlos. You'll forgive me if I don't exactly feel like laughing about the girl who had my mother arrested."

There was a long, awkward silence after his words, during which no one in the compartment seemed quite sure where to look. The question had been hanging in the air for some time – Scorpius had felt it the instant he stepped into the compartment after finishing his patrols. At last, Orchid said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper,

"_She _got your mum arrested? Rose Weasley?"

Scorpius nodded tersely, not trusting himself to say any more. Catching Jem's eye briefly, he saw that his friend looked just as shocked as the others.

"The little bitch," Torrance said, shaking his head.

Pushing a strand of curly hair out of her eyes, Nina looked at Scorpius frankly. "It's not that big a deal, though, patrolling with someone. You won't have to talk to Weasley or anything."

"Swap with me, then," Scorpius said quickly. "You're not happy with Kloves either, are you?"

"No. Thickest Ravenclaw I ever met." She shook her head. "But I can't swap, sorry. I've got Gobstones lined up for every other night of the week."

"If she was the one who got your mother arrested, why isn't she at the hearing?" Orchid resumed, as though no one else had spoken. She was leaning forward in her seat, her eyes bright with curiosity. "It's today, isn't it?"

Scorpius shrugged, wishing fervently that he had not mentioned it now. "Yeah. I don't know… she just told her family that she saw my mother at the wedding, I don't think she had evidence or anything."

Before Orchid could ask anything else, the trolley-witch's call reached their ears.

"_Finally_," Santini said, springing to his feet. The others followed hastily as he pushed into the crowded corridor to get to the lunch trolley. Jem and Scorpius were the only ones who remained seated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jem said quietly. "About Rose Weasley identifying your mum?"

"I wasn't supposed to know, overheard my parents saying it." He stood. "I just wanted to shut Santini up, really."

"Well, _that_ won't last long." His friend gave a wry half-smile. "But listen, mate… I'm sorry. That's – well, that's rotten luck."

"It's all right." Scorpius pushed the door of the compartment open with a little more force than necessary. "I'm used to it."

* * *

Hogsmeade Station was wreathed in darkness when Rose stepped out of the train, and a chilly, pine-scented breeze greeted her. A single lamp cast an orange glow over the platform from her left, and a low voice could be heard calling, "First years, first years, over here."

Looking over, she saw the hulking figure of Gregory Goyle at the edge of the platform. He had taken the position of assistant groundskeeper back when Minerva McGonagall was still Headmistress; Hagrid had been finding the tasks increasingly difficult to manage by himself over the past few years with his increasing rheumatism.

There had been some uproar on his appointment, as Goyle was a well-known former associate of Death Eaters, but both Hagrid and McGonagall had vouched for his present reliability, and the board of governors had eventually agreed. Even her parents had not spoken against him. Goyle was still not allowed to sit at the staff table, but for as long as Rose had attended Hogwarts, her parents' former classmate had been herding the first years off the train. The familiar sound of his voice made her smile despite herself, as she remembered the journey across the lake years ago, her first glimpse of the castle, how excited she had been.

"Shall we get a carriage, then?" she said cheerfully, as Cassie stepped nimbly down beside her.

"All right." As they made their way along the crowded platform to the road where the group of horseless stagecoaches waited, Rose took her best friend's arm, feeling suddenly light.

"I've missed you, you know, Cass. We didn't get together much over the summer."

"I know," Cassie said, sighing. "I'm sorry. We were staying with my grandparents in China for weeks and then…"

"Don't worry about it, I should've made more an effort to meet up too. But we've a whole year ahead of us now, haven't we?"

"Yeah." But she noticed her friend's tone was less than enthusiastic, and turned to look at her as they walked.

"Anything wrong?"

Cassie shook her head, dropping her arm and running a hand through her black hair. "Oh, just… not looking forward to all the hard work."

"Me neither," Rose said grimly as they reached the carriages. "I've been dreading it all summer."

Her companion gave her a strange look at those words, but before she could question her, a shout of laughter came from nearby. Looking around, she saw Scorpius Malfoy and his Slytherin friends climbing into one of the coaches. One of them, Orchid Ottelby, caught her eye and grinned nastily, giving her a jaunty wave.

"Ignore her," Cassie said, following her gaze. She put a hand out as her friend started towards them. "_Rose_. You're a prefect, remember?"

"I remember," Rose muttered, and followed her friend into the coach. At the sight of Malfoy, her good mood had evaporated, as what she had managed to briefly forget came hurtling back to her: reading his name with horror earlier on the train, and the cool, defiant way he had looked at her in the prefect's carriage, as though he had nothing to be ashamed of…

Albus joined them a few moments later, his hair dishevelled as usual, sticking up at odd angles. "Did you see the Aurors on the platform?" he panted, straightening his glasses.

The two girls exchanged glances. "Aurors? Really? No."

"They must have been on the train," Albus continued breathlessly as he sat beside Rose. "I stayed behind to see what they were doing, but they went into the station house and I had to run back - "

"Is there any room left in here?" A very pretty witch with loose blonde hair scattered with pink flowers had stuck her head into the carriage, and was looking at them hopefully.

"Hi, Summer," Cassie said cordially, when it became clear that Albus was incapable of speech. "We've enough room for one more. Come on in."

"Thanks _so_ much." Summer Birchgrove climbed on gracefully, hair swinging around her face, and sat next to Cassie. "I couldn't find my friends, and nearly all the carriages were gone. I thought I might have to walk!" As the carriage began to move, she caught sight of the Gryffindor sitting across from her. "Hi, Albus! Looking forward to patrols?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, looked from Rose to Cassie, then seemed to realise that he would have to do the talking himself. "Er… yeah."

"Me too!" The Hufflepuff beamed. "It'll be fun! Remember Charms last year?"

"Yeah…"

"Say, Summer," Rose said hopefully. "You wouldn't consider swapping partners, would you? It's just that the nights I've gotten don't suit me at all."

"Oh, that's a pity." Summer's smile faded, and she looked apologetic. "I don't think we're meant to swap partners though, didn't Jonah say so? Who did you get, anyway?"

Now it was Rose's turn to be uncomfortable. "Well… Malfoy."

"I don't like him one bit," Summer declared. "He dumped Diana Turpin really badly last year, and she took _ages _to get over him."

"I thought they weren't really going out," Albus said, as the carriage gave a jerk beneath them.

"They were." Summer folded her arms, suddenly stubborn.

"So… that's a no, then?" Rose asked at last, with an air of clutching at straws.

"Yeah, sorry." The blonde witch sighed. "I'm not going anywhere near _him_. Maybe you'll find someone else willing to swap, though."

"I somehow doubt it." Rose fell back against the moth-eaten seat hopelessly. The carriage rattled on in awkward silence, Albus's eyes resolutely fixed on the window, away from the blonde witch, while Cassie fidgeted with a loose thread on her robes, and made a few more feeble attempts at conversation.

None prevailed until Hogwarts came into sight through the carriage windows – the vast, sprawling castle and soaring turrets spread out against the horizon, a hundred twinkling lights in the darkness. For that moment, as the four students gazed at their second home, it almost seemed as though nothing could be wrong with the world.

* * *

"Could I ask for some quiet, please?"

The Headmaster's magically magnified voice echoed around the Great Hall, and the hordes of chattering students were silenced. Scorpius finished congratulating his cousin, Tobias Greengrass, who had just been Sorted into Slytherin, and turned to look at the staff table.

The usual professors were seated there, except - a few seats to the Headmaster's left, he could see an unfamiliar wizard, thin and bespectacled, clad in old-fashioned robes. He was tall, but his thin, scrawny frame and grey-streaked hair gave him a brittle look, as though a gust of wind would knock him over.

"Is that Professor Vance's replacement?" he muttered to Jem, who was sitting on his other side. His friend shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out."

Professor Godfrey Hobspawn lowered his hands as silence fell. "Thank you," he said briskly. "And welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before we begin the feast, I have a few announcements to make." A bald, powerfully-built wizard with a long, vertical scar running from temple to chin, he was a former Auror and Order of the Phoenix member who had taught Transfiguration at the school since the War. He had taken over the Headmaster's position when McGonagall retired several years back.

"Firstly, I would like you to welcome your new Potions master, Professor Theodore Nott." He indicated the bespectacled wizard with one hand, who rose and bowed stiffly, to uncertain, scattered applause. Murmurs were spreading through the Great Hall like ripples on a lake. Scorpius recognised the name instantly – he had been an old schoolmate of his father's.

"Wasn't his dad a Death Eater?" someone at the Gryffindor table said, loudly enough for the whole Hall to hear. Scorpius looked across to see, unsurprisingly, that it was James Potter who had spoken, an outraged expression on his face. The new professor did not visibly react, simply taking his seat once more. A few of the other teachers seemed suddenly uncomfortable, while the Headmaster raised his hands once more for silence, looking quite annoyed.

"I was _not _finished. Professor Nott had no part in the War, and has agreed to take the position of Potions master, following Professor Vance's retirement. You will all show him the same respect you reserve for all professors in this school, including you, Mr Potter. Is that clear?"

Though not the most patient of wizards, Godfrey Hobspawn certainly had a commanding presence. There were no outbursts from anyone else, though Scorpius heard Orchid hiss to Torrance, "They must have been _really _stuck for a teacher."

"Good. Now, Professor Nott has also offered to teach the elective subject of Alchemy to students in sixth and seventh year. Signing forms will be placed on the noticeboards tomorrow for those interested." There were more murmurs across the Hall, and Jem and Scorpius raised their eyebrows at each other.

"Finally," Professor Hobspawn said wearily, not bothering to hold his hand up for silence this time. "Some of you may have noticed Aurors at the station. In light of recent events, the board of governors has agreed that some additional school security may be required this year. There is _no_ need to panic, but I advise you all be cautious and vigilant, as always. That is all."

The buzz of conversation resumed around the tables as the Headmaster took his seat, louder than ever at this last, curious announcement. Scorpius felt sick to his stomach as mountains of food began to appear on the dishes before him. He could feel the stares, particularly those of Orchid, Torrance, Carlos and Nina, who sat nearby, as Hobspawn's words resonated in his ears. _In light of recent events_…

All through the feast, Scorpius had to suppress the urge to rise from the table and run. He certainly would have done so, had he not been aware of the many people watching him, gauging his reaction to the Headmaster's words. For if his father had taught him anything over the years, it was the importance of keeping up appearances. Should he flee the table now, it would seem that he had something to be guilty about – made all the worse by the fact that the his mother's hearing was being held today.

So, for his parents' sake, and for his own, Scorpius remained at the Slytherin table for most of the feast, forced himself to eat, to instruct his cousin about the different classes and teachers, to laugh at Torrance's jokes and join in Jem and Orchid's speculations about Professor Nott. Only when the treacle tart and chocolate pudding appeared on the plates before them did he lean over to ask Nina quietly if she would mind showing the first-years to the common room.

She gave him a strange look. "I think the new fifth-years are doing it. Why?"

"I have to talk to someone," he said, which was not entirely untrue. Moving around the table, Scorpius made his way out of the Great Hall as discreetly as possible, though he felt many gazes burning on his back.

It was a relief to step into the empty, cool Entrance Hall. He barely glanced at the memorial in the centre, a colossal granite monument carved in the shape of a phoenix, etched with the names of those who had perished in the Battle of Hogwarts, and pushed open the door that led to the dungeons. As he moved down into the belly of the castle, ahead of the crowds, Scorpius Malfoy felt somewhat at peace. It was good to be back in Hogwarts, despite everything.

The Slytherin common room was deserted when he entered, wreathed in the ethereal green glow cast by the lamps, and the dark, undulating waters of the lake were visible beyond the windows. It gave him the familiar feeling that he was staring into a glass tank, or out of one. He sat on one of the plush armchairs nearest to the fireplace, and watched the flames dancing in the hearth, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, waiting, waiting…

At precisely ten o'clock, the flames turned green, and Draco Malfoy's face emerged between them, pale and drawn. "Are you alone, Scorpius? Is anyone listening in?"

"Give me a moment." Scorpius stood, flicked his wand once at the door leading to the boys' dormitories, then at the door to the girls' dormitories. "_Homenum Revelio_!" Nothing happened, and he turned back to his father, kneeling before the flames and swallowing. "No, Dad. We're alone. Better be quick, though."

"This morning I told you to prepare for the worst," his father said quietly. "Well, a few hours ago, the Wizengamot agreed on a verdict. They found your mother guilty of attempted murder of a Ministry official."

Scorpius exhaled slowly, and clenched his fist on the hearth beneath him. He could not look at his father when he asked, mouth dry, "What was the sentence?"

"Fifteen years in Azkaban."

"But…" His voice broke on the word. Something else had broken inside of him, too, and a lump was forming in his throat, but he could not cry, he _would_ not cry, not here, not now, not in front of his father. "What about – the wedding invitation?"

His father's voice, in comparison, was hollow and emotionless, echoing in the silent common room. "They rejected it as false evidence. After your mother handed it in, their experts carried out tests on it for some time and claimed it was forged."

"_Forged_? By whom?"

"By us." A bitterness was entering his father's tone now. "But that's not all. It turns out the search they carried out on our house last week yielded something after all. They found Bloodroot Poison in the attic – according to the Healers at St Mungo's, the same poison which nearly killed Hermione Granger."

"No…" Scorpius swallowed again. _She didn't do it_. _She didn't do it_.

"Neither she nor I have any idea how the Bloodroot Poison came into the house. But along with the supposedly forged invitation, and Andromeda Tonks' testimony, it was apparently enough to form a case against your mother."

Scorpius shook his head dumbly. In the distance, he could hear loud laughter echoing down the dungeons as the Slytherins returned from the feast. "I – it must have been planted by someone. Maybe one of the people who searched our house."

"Unfortunately, the Wizengamot did not take to that suggestion. But I agree, and so does your mother." There was a silence, then his father spoke again, in a softer voice. "Scorpius, the last thing she said to me before we parted today was about you. Her worst fear is that you will suspect her too."

A sudden memory struck him of his mother, clutching at him. _The evidence may point in my direction…but I did not poison Hermione Granger_. The shouts were closer now. He looked up, meeting his father's gaze for the first time, his voice harsh. "I don't. It's difficult, but I don't. She told me there was something deeper going on, beneath all of this, and I believe her."

His father's face was grim. "Someone is working against us, Scorpius. Maybe someone from my past, an old enemy… I'll try my best to find out who. But this is _not _over."

Scorpius's eyes travelled downwards again, to the bottom of the ornate fireplace, and he asked quietly, even though he already knew the answer, "Can I see her? Before they take her away?" He could hear voices outside the common room door. His father glanced in their direction, before replying.

"They're holding her in the Ministry overnight, and bringing her to Azkaban tomorrow morning. We already said goodbye to each other. I'm sorry, Scorpius."

The lump in his throat threatening to choke him now, Scorpius nodded, and did not speak again, even when his father bade him farewell and disappeared from the flames, leaving him alone in the common room as the crowds of Slytherins flooded in from the feast.

* * *

_**Review if you wish! An interesting aside: would anyone care to hazard a guess as to who Cassie Miller's parents are?**_


	6. Encounters

_Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling_

**Chapter 6: Encounters**

When the Gryffindors descended to their common room the next morning, they found a new piece of parchment nailed to the noticeboard that read: **N.E.W.T. Alchemy**, with a series of blank spaces below for names. Rose Weasley pushed through the cluster of younger years and, producing a quill, signed her name eagerly on the first space.

"Is that your eighth subject now?" Cassie said sceptically, from beside her.

"I think so," Rose said brightly, replacing her quill and glancing at the announcement beside the Alchemy sheet. "Oh, look - Quidditch tryouts on Saturday!"

"Yeah," said James Potter, appearing out of nowhere to stand beside them, hands in pockets, "I was going to leave it a while but apparently the new Slytherin captain's already got the pitch booked tomorrow for his team's tryouts. Can't let them have the advantage. You've no cause to worry, though, Miller." He winked at her, then caught sight of Rose's name on the Alchemy sheet, and rounded on his cousin. "Are you seriously taking up extra lessons with _him_?"

"Well, it seems like a fascinating subject," Rose said defensively. "Professor Nott's father may have been a Death Eater, but that's not _his _fault. Goyle's been assistant groundskeeper for years now, and he was very nearly a Death Eater himself. Anyway, the Headmaster would hardly have hired Nott if he posed any threat to the school."

The Quidditch captain raised his eyebrows at her. "I never said he did. But he was in the same year as your parents, another of Draco Malfoy's pals, you know. He might not have taken any part in the Battle of Hogwarts, but when the Death Eaters took over the school he went along with it all the same. And that's the worst kind of person: someone who doesn't stand up to either side. A coward."

"Worse than someone like Lord Voldemort, who _did_ stand up to the other side?" Rose said incredulously, but her cousin merely shrugged.

"He's a rotten apple, coz. That's all I'm saying. Better go down to breakfast." He strolled away with some seventh-years and Rose glanced at Cassie. She was still staring at the tryouts sheet, her face pale, while other younger students gathered around her, pointing it out to each other and talking eagerly amongst themselves about their chances.

"You heard him, Cass. There's no need to worry."

"Right," her friend repeated in a monotone as they made their way through the common room. "No need to worry."

Rose frowned as she climbed through the portrait-hole. When Cassie emerged, pinning her dark hair back, she said confusedly, "Is everything all right?"

"Perfect," her friend said bitterly. "Just perfect."

She did not say anything more all the way down to breakfast, as they passed down the wide staircase through the castle with the rest of the Gryffindors, the portraits on the walls calling out merry greetings to them. Rose was relieved when Rory Finnigan caught up with them in the entrance hall, his sandy hair dishevelled with sleep.

"Hey, did you hear about Quidditch tryouts?" he said cheerfully. "I was thinking of trying out for Chaser this year. D'you think I might have a chance? Lewis outflew me last year, I know, but I've been practising all summer and – "

"Good for you," Cassie said flatly, before moving off ahead of them, through the double doors. Rory glanced at Rose, taken aback, who was frowning after their friend.

"What's up with her?" he said, startled, as they followed her into the Great Hall. The tables were already crowded with students eating breakfast, the ceiling far above a cloud-streaked blue.

"I don't know," she sighed. "But I'm going to find out."

However, when she reached the Gryffindor table, she saw that her friend had deliberately sat away from her, hemmed in by chattering first-years. Biting her lip, Rose squeezed in between Albus and Jackie, the latter of whom was checking her reflection in a spoon.

"Why's Cassie sitting over there?" Albus asked through a mouthful of cereal as the owls flew in the windows with the morning post. "Did you have an argument?"

"She seemed like she was upset about something earlier in the dormitory," Jackie remarked, putting the spoon down as a copy of _The Daily Prophet _was dropped into her lap by a snowy owl.

"Did she?" Rose felt a pang of guilt. Her mind had been so occupied with the Aurors and Malfoy and her mother that she had not noticed anything amiss with her friend. "We didn't argue, but - " She stopped short at Jackie's sharp intake of breath. "What is it?"

Jackie had unfolded _The Daily Prophet_ and was staring at the front page. "You might want to look at this," she said, her voice unusually quiet, then passed the paper to Rose, who held out a trembling hand.

Albus leaned over her shoulder, and together they read the headline: **Astoria Malfoy Found Guilty of Attempted Murder**. Beneath it, a black-haired, green-eyed witch gazed up at them calmly, though her wrists were shackled. "Oh, Merlin," Rose murmured. "Fifteen years in Azkaban…"

"In my day, attempted murder was punishable by death," said a thoughtful voice behind them, and they turned to see Nearly Headless Nick, hovering on Jackie's other side. "A particularly gruesome death, at that. Fifteen years is nothing in comparison."

"It's long enough," Albus said in an undertone, as the ghost floated away down the crowded table. He turned to look at Rose, who was still scanning the article. "What do you think?"

"I don't… I don't know," she said weakly, scanning the article, which detailed the evidence that had led to Astoria Malfoy's conviction. Those sitting near them at the table had gone quiet; Penny Alderton was gazing at them with wide eyes a few seats away, and Rory Finnigan looked solemn. Even throughout the Great Hall, she thought she could sense a hush falling over the students as they received their _Daily Prophet_s.

When she had finished the article, she handed the paper back to Jackie wordlessly. Phrases she had just read were flying around in her head – _false evidence_, _forged invitation_, _Bloodroot poison_, _Death Eater husband_, _ancient_ _grudge against the Weasleys_... Glancing down the table, Rose caught her brother's eye. Hugo stared back at her for a moment. He looked relieved, almost happy. The way she should be feeling. After all, her mother was no longer in danger. Astoria Malfoy had been caught. This was what she had been hoping for.

So why did it feel so… wrong?

* * *

It was possibly the most difficult breakfast Scorpius had ever sat through.

His friends were a help – Torrance swore at a group of third-years who were eagerly discussing the news nearby, Orchid tossed her own _Daily Prophet_ away in disgust after reading the headline, while Jem and Nina attempted to draw Scorpius into a conversation about the subjects they were taking. Even Santini started loudly announcing the Quidditch tryout requirements to anyone who was listening, though that may have been to remind everyone that he was the new captain.

Scorpius was so used to being stared at by now that he barely noticed it anymore. What was strange today, however, was that _no_ _one_ in the Hall seemed to want to look at him. He thought he would prefer that, but the absence of stares made him feel even more conspicuous, as though he were being marked as a target by the rest of the school. When Professor Nott came striding over to the sixth-years at the end of breakfast with their timetables, Scorpius felt a wave of inexpressible relief.

"Are you our new Head of House?" one of Orchid's friends, Laura Runcorn, a girl with long hair like burnished copper, asked curiously as the professor passed her.

"I am," he replied. His voice was lower, more fluid than Scorpius had been expecting. He hadn't had the chance to tell his father last night about their new Potions teacher, though he knew the former classmates had not seen each other in years. Not many of his father's old acquaintances kept up with him these days. He doubted Theodore Nott would want to acknowledge the connection to anyone.

Sure enough, when Nott reached him, his long, thin face was carefully blank. "Scorpius Malfoy," he said, flipping through his notes. "Well, with an 'O' in almost every subject, you have many options. If you have any idea which subjects you wish to take already, it would make the process much faster…"

"Astronomy, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes and Divination." Scorpius rattled off the list smoothly. "Also, I'm interested in taking up Alchemy, sir. I've already signed the sheet." Professor Nott blinked at him in some surprise, then composed his features and nodded, waving his wand at a blank timetable so that his new subjects appeared there, and handing it to him.

"So you're doing Divination?" Jem asked him incredulously a few minutes later, when they were on their way to Ancient Runes. "Do you really believe in all that stuff?"

Scorpius shrugged, as they reached the top of the moving staircase and stepped onto the sixth floor. He made an effort to forget the events of breakfast (and last night) and focus on what Jem was saying. "Firenze's a really good teacher. Since Trelawney retired, the course has been a lot more astrology-based, and I like that. My dad doesn't know I'm doing it, though – if he did, he'd kill me."

"Right." Jem sounded a bit uncomfortable. Adjusting the strap of his satchel, he hastily changed the subject. "I signed up for Alchemy too, by the way. The first lesson's next Monday, he told me. Doubt many people will want to take on the extra work, though."

"I thought you'd be relieved!"

The voice reached them as they rounded the corner, and Scorpius stiffened; outside the doorway of the Ancient Runes classroom, Rose Weasley stood in earnest conversation with someone whom he recognised as her younger brother.

"I _am _relieved," she replied, her voice so low Scorpius could barely hear it, "Of course I am, I just…"

She looked up, catching sight of the two Slytherins. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to say anything, though his hand itched towards his wand. "Go," she said hastily to her brother. "Hugo, _get to class_."

The Weasley boy turned to face them as they reached the doorway, and his eyes were dark with hostility. Tall and gangly, he could not have been more than fourteen, but there was something in the way he held himself, the way he stared at Scorpius… that made him uneasy. He was relieved when they passed him and entered the half-filled classroom, as Professor Babbling began lecturing them about tardiness.

"That was strange," Jem muttered as they took their seats by the window.

Scorpius did not reply, pulling out _Complex Runology_ and placing it on the table with his quill. He felt inexplicably shaken by the encounter, even though he had no reason to be. After all, the boy was no more than fourteen and posed no possible threat to him.

It was only when Professor Babbling had them draw out a section of the second runic alphabet that he realised what it was. Behind the hatred in the Weasley boy's eyes, there had lurked something else. That same unstable emotion that had briefly governed his mother when she was urging him to believe her.

With a jolt, he remembered the red mark she had left on his wrist that day, and automatically rubbed the skin there, pausing in his work. Hostility was straightforward, and easily recognised. But _desperation_… desperation was unpredictable, and erratic. Desperation was altogether more dangerous to him.

* * *

The air in the Potions dungeon was sharp with anticipation as Rose and Albus entered after lunch. The professor had not arrived yet, and the rest of the students filed in group by group. There were no more than fifteen people taking the class at N.E.W.T. level, most of them Slytherins or Ravenclaws. Summer Birchgrove was the only Hufflepuff, chatting to Diana Turpin in the corner. Rose noticed her cousin's eyes slide over to her momentarily as they passed, and suppressed a smirk.

"Looking forward to patrolling tonight?" she asked Albus as they took one of the benches towards the front of the classroom, heaving her cauldron onto it, with her books inside. He started, and shook his head.

"No. You?"

"I'm not patrolling till Friday," Rose said confidently. "But I think I can manage a swap before then. I'm going to talk to Lucy and see if I can - "

"Tomorrow's Friday," Albus said, looking slightly amused. "And besides, Robbins said we couldn't swap. Lucy's not going to make an exception for you because you're her cousin, either; she's not that kind of person."

Rose sighed. "I know, but I have to do _something_. You know I can't patrol with him, not after everything that's happened."

"Having second thoughts, Weasley?" She had spoken more loudly than she had intended, and Torrance Bole had stopped on his way back from the ingredients cupboard to listen. He leaned against the desk opposite theirs, watching her with disconcertingly thoughtful eyes. "Don't worry, he doesn't like you either."

"I wasn't talking to you, _Bole_," Rose said sharply. "If you don't mind, we were having a private conversation."

"Oh, do forgive me," Torrance said cordially. "My manners aren't as polished as they should be…"

"Clear off, Bole," she said again in a monotone. He smiled. It was not a nice smile.

"You know, I don't think I will."

She tensed. "I'm warning you, Bole - "

"Torrance." Malfoy appeared at his side, his face set like stone. He did not even look at Rose and Albus. "Leave them. They're not worth getting a detention for."

The class had suddenly gone very quiet. Bole straightened up, and turned to Malfoy, who was a head taller.

"I don't know, Scorpius…" he said slowly. "I think someone needs to stand up to them. Or at least to _her_." He looked at Rose again, and she stared back, unblinking, though she was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. He narrowed his dark eyes. "Tell me, Weasley, do you enjoy getting people's mothers thrown into Azkaban?"

The words stung, more so because of their truth. Rose clenched her jaw, and forced herself to remain calm, to remain seated. Beside her, she could hear Albus's quick, tense breathing, and could almost imagine what he was thinking. _They're trying to provoke you, Rose_. _Don't let them_…

"You certainly seem to be very good at it," Orchid Ottelby added as she joined Malfoy and Bole, tilting her head as she looked at Rose, a grin tugging at her lips. "Maybe you could give us a few tips?"

Rose felt herself flush angrily. "She _deserved_ it," she heard herself say, struggling to keep her voice even. "His mother deserved it. She's a murderer. Now leave us alone."

In a flash of quick movement, Scorpius Malfoy had pulled out his wand and was pointing it at her. There was a collective gasp from their classmates looking on. His face had not changed, yet she could tell that he was furious.

"_Take - that - back_," he said through gritted teeth, biting each word.

"Or what - you'll curse me?" Rose said sharply, rising to her feet. "Do you really want to risk getting in trouble when you're practically out of the school already? It _shocks _me that they're keeping you on as a prefect after everything that's happened." She drew her own wand. "Or maybe you'll poison me? That's what your family does to people they don't like, isn't it?"

"Don't threaten me, Weasley," he replied, his voice calmer than before, though she had seen his fist clench white on his wand at her words. His grey eyes locked on hers, cold and indifferent as before. "You're not really in a position to, after all."

"Oh, really?" Rose raised her wand. Behind her, Albus stood and gripped her arm, attempting to hold her back. She jerked free. "So you know something about that, do you?" She studied Malfoy's face, feeling horribly calm. "The position I'm in?"

"Scorpius." Jeremy Sharpwood rose from the back of the classroom, where he and Nina Meyer had been watching the proceedings, pale-faced. "Don't be stupid. Her family's powerful, you _know _that, you can't mess with them - "

"Didn't stop her mum getting poisoned, though, did it?" Ottelby pointed out from where she stood beside Bole, arms crossed. "Maybe your family isn't as powerful as you'd like to think, _Weasley_."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Ottelby," Rose said coolly, tightening her grip on the wand. Beside her, she heard a rustle of robes as Albus moved to draw his own wand. She saw Malfoy tense in response, his eyes flicking towards her cousin instead.

Then, before anyone could do or say anything else, the dungeon door opened, and Professor Nott entered. Without even looking at the two students with their wands pointed at each other, he strode past them calmly to his desk. "Please be seated. Ten points from each of your houses. If I catch anyone with their wands out in class again, I will not hesitate to give detention this early in the year. Is that clear?"

In a rush of movement, everyone who had been standing returned to their desks. Rose tucked her wand into her pocket, running her hands over her face and avoiding Albus's gaze. She knew it had been irresponsible to lose her temper like that – it could have cost her a lot more than Housepoints. But the fact that she had finally lashed out at someone gave her a strange kind of release. Aware that Professor Nott was talking about the N.E.W.T. course, she breathed deeply and listened.

"As expected, you will be working this year at a higher level of intensity than ever before," he began in a low voice that she had to strain to hear. "We will be studying a wide range of potions, and I will be setting a realistic time limit to the brewing of each. Not every potion should be made in haste, of course; some, such as the Polyjuice Potion, take months to brew. In these cases I will test you on efficiency of brewing and proper use of time."

He stepped out from behind the desk to face them all, his eyes scanning each face one by one behind his glasses. Rose wondered, briefly, about what James had told her earlier. Had Theodore Nott sympathised with the Death Eaters? Did he still believe those ancient prejudices that no one admitted to anymore, about Muggle-borns and Squibs and Muggles themselves?

"Today, after witnessing a certain – er – hostility between some of you, the potion-making skill I would like to test is cooperation. Potions is an individual subject, that is true, but it is necessary to work with other witches and wizards in all areas of the wizarding world. So, I wish you to divide into pairs – which _I _will decide…" He ignored the ensuing groans of his pupils, "- and brew the Wiggenweld Potion."

Rose dropped her chin onto her hands. Was everything working against her? She exchanged an apprehensive glance with Albus as Professor Nott began flicking his wand to each of them. The students began to move from their desks as he called out their names. "Birchgrove, with Kloves. Potter, with Turpin. Ottelby, with Davis. Weasley…" (_Please not Malfoy_. _Please not Malfoy_. _Please -_) "…with Meyer."

She exhaled, said a silent prayer of thanks and glanced around at the Slytherin girl, who rose reluctantly from her desk, carrying her Potions kit and scales with her but leaving the cauldron behind. She grunted at Rose to move over, plonked down at the bench and began to sort through the ingredients in her kit.

Rose didn't think she had exchanged two words with Nina Meyer in the five years they had spent together in Hogwarts. She hadn't properly interacted with any of the Slytherins, really, before today - except for Ottelby, and even then, only a few barbed comments had ever been exchanged between them. Apart from that, the Slytherins in their year had largely kept to themselves, staying in their own tightly-knit groups.

"The Wiggenweld Potion is relatively simple to brew," Nott said calmly, sounding as though he were talking more to himself than anyone else as he paced up and down the aisles between the seats. "Its many properties are woven through ancient legends, but today, it is commonly used as an antidote to the Draught of Living Death. The first pair to finish will win ten Housepoints each. You have fifty minutes."

"Right," Rose said briskly, rolling up her sleeves and tying up her hair. "Can you get the page?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Meyer thumb through her book silently, then push the page with instructions towards her. All around them, splashes and hisses could already be heard as the other students got their ingredients ready. This was the kind of class environment she loved – tense and competitive. It was strangely calming after earlier, perhaps simply because of its familiarity.

With one hand, Rose poured Horklump juice into the cauldron, while with the other, she kindled a flame with her wand. The sickly yellow liquid began to fizz, and her companion moved to add the salamander blood. Rose held up a hand to stop her. "Not yet," she said. "Wait till the juice has boiled down to half a pint."

"It doesn't say that in the book," Meyer accused, speaking distinctly for the first time.

"It says 'when the Horklump juice has boiled down to a sufficient volume'," Rose said, without taking her eyes off the cauldron. "Half a pint is a sufficient volume; any more than that and the salamander blood would be too diluted. Wait for it - _now_."

"Three-quarters of a pint would make more sense." She could feel the Slytherin girl's glare, but she obeyed all the same, tipping the phial in, and the liquid turned a thick, gooey red. "The others added theirs ages ago," she complained, glancing around the room. "We'll be the last to finish."

"We won't," Rose said airily, and smiled over at her partner. "If we work together."

As the hour progressed, the air in the dungeon growing more humid and thick around them, much of the rest of the classroom descended into disorder. Summer Birchgrove got a faceful of boiling Boom Berry juice when Kloves added too much to the cauldron, and had to be escorted to the hospital wing, while a foul sulphuric scent drifted over from Albus and Diana Turpin's cauldron behind them.

Professor Nott passed around the room with a strange, loping grace, doling out instructions and admonitions to each pair. The only cauldron he passed without comment each time was Malfoy and Sharpwood's. Rose knew from years of classes together that Malfoy was one of the best potioneers in the year – it made her all the more determined to finish first.

"Damn it," Meyer muttered as Rose was stirring the liquid anti-clockwise in the cauldron. An unspoken understanding had grown between them as they worked, and the latter asked calmly, "What's the matter?"

"I don't have any Honeywater," the Slytherin prefect said in a low voice. "I'd forgotten I didn't manage to get it in Diagon Alley last week."

Rose set the cauldron down and handed Nina her potions kit. "Just use some of mine. What's the problem?" Strands of damp hair were clinging to her sweaty forehead, and she brushed them away, taking a deep breath and nearly gagging on the fumes emanating from the cauldron behind. She heard Albus say impatiently, "No, not until it turns _yellow_!" and had to stop herself smiling.

"Five minutes left," the professor announced from the other end of the classroom, and Nina groaned. Her thick black hair was beginning to frizz in the humidity of the air.

"Is anyone finished yet?" Rose asked quietly, and her companion cast a glance back.

"No, not quite. Jem and Scorpius are still crushing the Chizpurfle Fangs."

"Good. Just take my Honeywater, and add it."

"But you have barely any left. And we already used all of your lionfish spines." She did not sound apologetic, only annoyed. Rose rolled her eyes. Slytherins were so _proud_.

"I don't mind, Meyer! Just add it, we can use your ingredients another time."

Reluctantly, her partner added the last few drops of Honeywater, and the liquid in the cauldron turned a smooth, velvety turquoise. Professor Nott nodded in approval as he passed, and Rose turned up the heat with her wand. Pinch by pinch, she added the powder of the crushed Chizpurfle Fangs, watching as the potion began to bubble.

"I'm sorry about your mum," Nina Meyer said in a very low voice, and Rose promptly knocked over the phial containing the last few drops of salamander blood. The other girl righted it with her wand before it spilt and took the phial in her hand, while her companion stared at her in shock.

"You – what?"

"I said I'm sorry about your mum," the Slytherin prefect repeated, dripping the salamander blood into the cauldron. The potion turned a pale pink, and she gave it a few cautious stirs. "I've never liked you, Weasley, or your family - but your mum didn't deserve that."

"I… thank you?"

"I'm glad she isn't dead," Meyer continued matter-of-factly, sealing the empty phial and putting it aside. "Because if she hadn't changed the Muggle-born Sorting regulations, I wouldn't have ended up in Slytherin."

Rose shook her head, waving her wand to clear the ingredients in her kit. "Why did you want to be in Slytherin anyway?" she said confusedly, because it was the only thing she could think of to say.

"I'd never have belonged anywhere else," Meyer said with a shrug. "But I don't expect you to know what I mean, Weasley. Your whole family's always been in Gryffindor. You'll never understand Slytherin." Without waiting for her reply, she raised her hand and called across the classroom, "Professor Nott, we're ready!"

(***)

"I don't see why you're making such a fuss about it, Al," Rose grumbled as they emerged from the dungeons into the entrance hall, which was swarming with students on their way to the next class. "I won us back the Housepoints we lost. No harm done."

"No harm done?" Albus repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "You've made some more enemies, Rose, and Merlin knows our family has enough of them already. If you'd just kept quiet and not let them goad you - "

"Sat back and looked weak, you mean?" Rose said sharply. "Someone had to stand up to them!"

"You know what the funny thing is?" As they passed two Aurors in conversation by the castle entrance, Albus rounded on her, sighing. "That's exactly what Bole said about you." Turning from her, he joined Rory Finnigan and Mark McLaggen, who were standing a few yards away, and climbed the marble staircase.

Instead of following them, Rose stood there for a moment, then stepped out of the castle doors and into the grounds. A gentle breeze blew her red hair as she moved over the grass, passing students returning from the greenhouses and the Forest. The lake stretched out to the south, glittering in the sun. Her brief euphoria at winning the Potions competition was rapidly fading. Why was everyone angry at her today?

"Rose?" Looking up, she saw Penny Alderton walking alone behind a crowd of Hufflepuff sixth-year girls, books clutched to her chest. She stopped in front of Rose, a frown creasing her white forehead. "Are you all right?"

Rose rubbed her forehead wearily. "Not really. Have you seen Cassie? She wasn't at lunch. I haven't seen her since this morning."

"She wasn't in Care of Magical Creatures either," Penny said apologetically. "Jackie told Professor Grubbly-Plank that she was sick, though I think it was a lie."

"Merlin..." Rose turned as her fellow Gryffindor began to walk back to the castle. "Has _your _first day back been as horrible as mine?"

"It's been all right." Penny shrugged. "A bit lonely. Jackie's been hanging around with her new boyfriend all day."

"Oh, Luke Rokonski?" Rose snorted. "Don't worry, _that _won't last."

Penny did not reply, but gave a little wave to one of the Aurors standing guard as they entered the castle doors, a fair-haired wizard who looked vaguely familiar. He nodded briefly back before returning to conversation with the other Auror. Rose raised her eyebrows. "Who was _that_?"

"My brother," Penny said quietly once they had passed. "He's on duty here with some of the other Aurors – they're on a kind of rotation. I wish he wasn't, though… After what Professor Hobspawn said at the feast, I feel like Hogwarts isn't the safest of places anymore."

"Oh, yeah, Geoffrey. I remember him from Teddy's wedding." Rose paused, giving Penny a sidelong glance. "Was he… affected by what happened?"

"He stayed behind for a bit after with Teddy's Auror friends, even though they weren't on duty that day. They wanted to make sure that everyone left the wedding safely. Mum and I were so worried." She gave a sad little smile as they came to a halt outside the Great Hall. "I'd better go to Charms. What have you got next?"

"Free period, so I'll be in the library. Listen, Penny - " she added, as the latter was beginning to turn away, not sure why she felt the need to say something more. "That was – er - really brave of your brother."

Penny gave a sad smile. "It's just the way he is. He never puts himself first. But thank you."

"Well, I know the type," Rose said wryly, and watched as the other girl departed.

* * *

"The bobbing hand movement is of utmost importance. I want you all to practice it now, in pairs." Professor Harris folded her arms and watched as the Charms class began to raise their wands, screwing up their faces in concentration, and attempted to make the glass bowls hover on the desks before them and perform a dance in the air without smashing.

"Do you want to go first?" Torrance said, and Scorpius blinked back at him. His mind had been miles away, on a grim, storm-tossed island in the North Sea. He shook his head. "No, you."

With a sigh, Torrance raised his wand and flicked it carelessly. The glass bowl raised itself a couple of inches off the table half-heartedly, then tipped to its side and smashed. Professor Harris directed a scowl their way at the sound of breaking glass. "_Careful_!" she barked, as the perpetrator hurriedly repaired the bowl with his wand.

"This is _so_ pointless," he muttered. "I wish we were in Defence. Your turn."

Forcing himself to focus, Scorpius swish-and-flicked silently so that the glass bowl was hovering over the table. Then, in a slow, delicate movement, he bobbed his wand-hand so that the glass bowl began to twist and turn in the air, tipping to the left, then to the right. He raised his wand higher, and the glass bowl soared gracefully over the heads of the other students, who ceased in their charm-casting to watch its progress.

Scorpius began to trace deliberate circles in the air in front of him with his wand, clenching his jaw in concentration. The bowl came to a halt in the centre of the room and performed a dazzling spin. Sunlight streaming in through the windows glinted in the glass as it spun faster and faster, becoming a blur.

Someone shrieked in anticipation of the bowl shattering, and a few students threw their arms over their heads. But, with a graceful flourish of his wand, Scorpius steered the bowl back towards his corner of the classroom. Its spinning slowed as it returned, and it gently halted before him, lowering itself onto his table.

There was a shocked silence, then the class began to applaud. Letting his wand drop, Scorpius realised that he was smiling. The plump, frizzy-haired professor was clapping most enthusiastically from the front of the classroom. "Wonderful!" she cried, as the applause died down. "Truly wonderful. I hope you were all watching… _that_ is exactly the kind of creative flair that the N.E.W.T. examiners will be looking for. Ten points to Slytherin! Now, back to work, everyone!"

Composing himself, Scorpius turned back to his partner. Torrance was staring at him, flabbergasted. "Show-off," he managed to say, and Scorpius laughed.

At the end of Charms, when the other students were filing out of the classroom eagerly to get to dinner, Professor Harris called to him from her desk. "Malfoy, would you wait here a moment?"

He felt his heart sink as he threw the bag-strap over his other shoulder and leaned against the corner of her desk. She was going to scold him for endangering the other students with his stunt, ask whether he had cheated by practicing over the summer, or whispering the incantation under his breath…

"Have you ever considered joining Charms club, Malfoy?" the professor said abruptly, tucking a roll of parchment into the drawer of her desk.

"Charms club?" Scorpius repeated in surprise.

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "I think it would suit you very well. You'd have a chance to learn a whole range of new charms that aren't on the course. _And_ you would be working with other students who have the same passion for Charms that you do."

"I would, professor, but I'll be busy this year – I'm a prefect, and I do Quidditch as well, and…" Scorpius struggled to find another reason why he couldn't possibly go to Charms club. It _did_ sound appealing, but he knew instinctively that it was something he could not do. Professor Harris raised her eyebrows sceptically.

"And your parents."

"What about them?" he said sharply, raising his head to look her fully in the eye. Of course she, like everyone else in the school, must have read _The Daily Prophet _this morning. She did not flinch or seem surprised by his reaction, just returned to clearing away her desk.

"They think Charms is a waste of time, do they not? A simple subject, for students who want a break from subjects like Transfiguration and Potions. Is that true?"

"How do you know what they think?" Scorpius said suspiciously. Professor Harris smiled, stepping down from the desk, and shrugged.

"Because most people see Charms that way." She put a hand on his shoulder as she passed, looking seriously into his face. "But I know _you_ don't." She dropped her hand and moved past him, towards the doorway. "As for Quidditch, well, I've been in consultation with the other Heads of Houses and have managed to schedule the club sessions around the training schedules, where possible."

"But - "

"Think about it, Malfoy." With one last stern glance, the Charms professor bustled out of the classroom, and Scorpius frowned. He could hear his father's voice in his head… _Anyone can pass Charms_. _Don't waste your time worrying about it_.

Shaking his head, he followed Professor Harris, closing the door behind him.

* * *

The library was quiet in the afternoons, which was one of the reasons Rose liked to go there and forget herself in the stacks of yellowing, dusty books so often. Particularly today, when all anyone wanted to talk about was Astoria Malfoy's arrest… The prospect of tucking herself away from prying eyes with some old manuscript was all the more attractive.

Madam Pince, the ancient librarian, was hunched over a scroll when she entered and hardly spared her a glance. That was yet another thing Rose liked about the library. The anonymity. She smiled a little as she headed over to the towering bookcases at the far end of the cavernous room, passing a third-year girl with glasses whose head was bent earnestly over her books. Maybe she could read up on Alchemy before their first class next week – get ahead of all the other students and impress Professor Nott.

She scanned the worn spines of the Potions section, standing on her tiptoes to see the top shelf, and felt a flicker of disappointment. No titles leapt out at her. Sighing softly, she weaved around the shelves to the Restricted Section.

There, among the crumbling, foul-smelling books, some of whose bindings were falling apart, Rose spotted a thin, faded spine: _Moste Potente Potions_. It did not even mention alchemy, but the book was one of her favourites in the library. She could not resist. Settling herself at a secluded desk, she thumbed through the delicate pages gingerly, gazing at the familiar, gruesome drawings. One of her favourite stories of her parents' schooldays was how her mother had brewed Polyjuice Potion from this same book in her second year.

She had reached the chapter on slow-acting venoms when someone said her name.

"Rosie? Can I talk to you for a moment?" Her cousin, Lily, had slipped into the seat opposite her. Her lengths of vibrant red hair whose straightness Rose had always envied stood out startlingly against her dark robes. She was gnawing on her lower lip, and looked worried (but prettily so, as the younger girl always seemed to manage).

"Of course." Rose shut _Moste Potente Potions_, ignoring a brief pang at her loss of solitude, and looked at the fourth-year before her. "Is everything all right?"

"Not really, no." Lily tapped her fingers on the wooden surface of the desk restlessly. "I mean, I'm fine, but… other people aren't." She gave Rose a pointed glance.

"Is this about Hugo?" the other girl replied, catching on quickly as she recalled her earlier conversation with him. "I know he's upset with me about the whole Astoria Malfoy thing - "

"It's not just that," Lily said, lowering her voice as Madam Pince shot her a glare from the desk. "Since we came back, he hasn't been himself at all, Rosie. I mean, I know the shock of – well – everything hasn't worn off yet, and I understand that, but…"

"But?"

"He – he doesn't talk to anyone properly, just goes off by himself all the time." Lily frowned. "He's always been quiet, I know, and I'm not his closest friend, but even I can see he's – _different_ these days. He was really late for Transfiguration today, and he wouldn't say why when I asked."

Rose sighed. "That was probably because he followed me to Ancient Runes. Did he get in trouble?"

"No, Professor Broadmoor didn't even deduct points," her cousin sighed. "He feels sorry for him, like all the other professors. But I don't think that's what he _needs_. What he needs is someone to talk to him, make him see that things can be normal. He needs you."

Rose leaned her head on her hands and shut her eyes, kneading the skin of her temples gently. She could sense her cousin watching her. "You're the only one who understands what he's gone through, Rosie. If he'll listen to _anyone_, it's you."

"I don't know about that, Lily. Hugo and I – we're close, I suppose, but…"

"…you don't tell each other things," Lily finished for her. "I know. I've got brothers too, remember? But you can count on the people you've grown up with to really know who you are, and how to help you if you're in trouble. Sometimes they're the _only_ ones you can count on."

"I don't agree," Rose said quietly. She opened her eyes to regard her cousin. "I think you can live for years in the same house as someone and never know them at all."

Lily looked at her for a moment before answering, her hazel eyes uncertain. "Maybe that's true - but I know if Albus or James were acting like this, I'd still _try_ to get through to them."

"I've tried already." The older girl shrugged, tracing a finger along the faded cover of her book. "Ever since the wedding, we've been thrown together a lot, visiting Mum in the hospital and everything, but – he's barely said a word to me. Apart from today, and even then, that was about the Malfoys. There's no point in trying, Lily. Maybe it'd be better to just leave him be for a while, let him get over it. After all, Mum's fine now. Nothing – nothing happened, really."

"What are you talking about?" Lily exclaimed. "_Nothing_ happened? Your mum was poisoned! That's a lot to 'get over'! Just because you're dealing with it in a different way doesn't mean Hugo has to - "

Rose met her eye once more. "I was just as affected as he was by what happened," she said coolly. "I _saw_ it. But school's started, and there's no point dwelling on it any more. Mum's all right and Astoria Malfoy's been locked up. Everything's _fine_, Lily."

"You don't believe that," her cousin responded firmly. "This isn't like you, Rosie. I know you're still angry about it all. Albus told me about you and the Slytherins earlier. It's OK to admit it, you know!"

"I _was _angry," Rose corrected her primly. "But now I'm not. Of course I'll keep looking out for Hugo – he's my brother. But I just don't see the point in talking to him. I know him, and he doesn't like being helped. He prefers to work alone." She reopened _Moste Potente Potions_ pointedly, avoiding her cousin's stare. "And so do I."

Lily sat across from her for a few seconds more, as she read the first sentence of the chapter. _It may take from an hour to a day for symptoms of slow-acting venoms to manifest themselves in the victim_. Rose's eyes were still scanning the same sentence when her cousin rose from the table without another word, her shoes squeaking across the floor and undoubtedly earning her another glare from Madam Pince as she walked out of the library.

(***)

"I can't believe Cassie's skipping dinner too," Rory Finnigan said in disbelief. "She must be really nervous about tryouts."

"I think it's more than that," Jackie said wisely, seizing a piece of roast chicken and cutting it into slices on her plate. "Lisa Harvey found her crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom earlier, and no one's gone in there for _decades_."

"Maybe she got bad news," Penny supplied, taking a dainty bite of her potato.

Rose felt a pang of guilt. With everything that had happened that day: Astoria Malfoy's arrest, Hugo cornering her before Ancient Runes, her fight with Malfoy in Potions, she had forgotten how upset Cassie had been at breakfast. "Where is she now?"

"Dormitories, probably. I think she's been hiding out there most of the day."

Rose bit her lip, debating whether or not to bring food up to her friend. Then, catching sight of Lucy Weasley sitting a little way up the Gryffindor table, Head Girl's badge fixed to her chest, she remembered her earlier conversation with Albus, and leapt to her feet. "I'll be back in a minute," she told the others.

Lucy was sitting with her Ravenclaw boyfriend, laughing at something he had said, and looked up in surprise as Rose approached. "Is there something wrong?" she asked at her cousin's earnest expression.

"Just one small problem, Luce," Rose said, attempting to keep her voice casual. She glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then slipped into the seat beside her. "You and Robbins paired me with Scorpius Malfoy for patrols. I need to swap."

"That's unfortunate," Lucy said, looking apologetic. "We made the pairings randomly, Rose, so I assure you that was not intentional. But a swap just isn't possible."

"Why not?" Rose asked, rather loudly, and several students glanced over. The Ravenclaw boy, who was called Michael or Christopher or some such sensible name, looked at her with some alarm. "Lucy," she continued, lowering her voice again. "Have you read _The Daily Prophet _today? You must know why I can't patrol with him."

Lucy's expression grew haughty. "Of course I've read it. My father is the Minister for Magic, Rose, in case you've forgotten. He was presiding over that very hearing. But I can't let you swap partners. For one thing, Jonah and I carefully worked out each prefect's patrol nights so that they wouldn't clash with Quidditch training or other extracurricular activities - "

"Lucy, his mother's in prison because of me! You know what she did; she's dangerous, _all_ of them are dangerous, so do you really think it's a good idea to pair me with someone who could very easily have a motive to hurt me, I mean - "

" – and for another, Professor Hobspawn insisted that we pair prefects from different Houses together to ensure that the patrols are done correctly, without delay or procrastination, and - "

" – he _threatened_ me in Potions today, Lucy, he and his friends are all out to get me -"

" – to encourage inter-House cooperation," her cousin finished stubbornly, as though she had not spoken. "Rose, _no one_ isswapping partners. Rules are rules. If you feel threatened, you should go to one of the professors, but I should remind you that our Headmaster is a former Auror. He knows how to protect his students."

"Merlin's _sake_, Lucy," Rose exclaimed, getting to her feet and shoving the chair back with unnecessary violence, prompting Michael or Christopher to give her another disapproving look. Across the table, her eyes briefly fell on Hugo, flanked by Lily and another fourth-year. He was staring at her. She ignored them both and marched back to her own seat, scowling.

"If I ever become Head Girl, I hope I'm more helpful than _her_," she said to Penny and Jackie, who exchanged nonplussed glances.

* * *

Summer Birchgrove really was lovely.

As she strode across the entrance hall towards him, her loose blonde hair shimmering in the light of the setting sun spreading from the open double doors, Albus Potter indulged himself in that observation, just for a moment. He had noticed it last year, of course, when they had sat together in Charms – how could he not have - but somehow, wishing she would stop talking about his brother before his head imploded had prevented him from taking much of it in then. But now…

Summer came to a graceful halt before Albus, a radiant smile lighting her face. After a moment of tongue-tied silence, he realised that she expected him to speak. Clearing his throat, he said, "Er… So, we'll be patrolling the first floor corridor, then?" But that was a stupid thing to say; they both already knew that.

"I think so, yes," she said brightly. "Do you want to head up?"

"All right." Letting her go ahead, Albus proceeded up the marble staircase and shook his head as though to clear it. What was wrong with him?

"So how was your first day back?" she asked politely as they began to move along the corridor, which was nearly deserted, except for a few seventh years and the occasional harried professor rushing back to their office.

"It was…" _Don't say 'all right' again_. "… interesting."

"Potions was rather exciting. Your cousin's argument with those Slytherins, I mean," she elaborated at his confused look as they passed the entrance to the Stone Bridge. "If Professor Nott hadn't come in when he did, who knows what might have happened?"

"Yeah, Rose was just being... Rose." In his memory of the incident, Albus recalled something else. "Oh – were you all right after what happened?"

"The Boom Berry juice?" She laughed. "It hurt a lot, but Madam Pomfrey fixed it up pretty quickly. I was scared it would scar, but it didn't, thank Merlin. I hope I'm not paired with Kloves again though!"

"Yeah, he's a bit of an idiot," Albus said, suddenly feeling more at ease.

"If I'd been paired with you, it wouldn't have happened, I'm sure," Summer said lightly.

What was that supposed to mean? Albus glanced out at a window facing out over the courtyard to hide his confusion. "Er… no, I hope it wouldn't."

There was an awkward silence, then the sound of a _pop_ above them and there was Peeves hovering above, grinning gleefully. "_Potty's got a girlfriend_!" he announced to the corridor, before proceeding to pelt them both with Snargaluff pods. Shrieking, Summer broke into a run, throwing her hands over her head as wriggling green worms dropped from the ceiling, while Albus followed her, his face hot.

Peeves' mocking calls followed them to the end of the corridor, where they ducked around a tapestry, panting, and leaned against the wall. "Well…" Summer said, her bright blue eyes dancing with humour, shaking out her robes to make sure that no worms were left. "That was an experience."

"If you want to go back… I mean, I can say we did the whole patrol," Albus said uncertainly, but Summer shook her head.

"Oh no, don't worry about it. We can just wait till he's gone." She peeped around the tapestry. A lock of blonde hair fell across her tanned forehead, and she tucked it back behind her ear, then hissed, "I think the coast is clear."

As they stepped back out into the corridor, however, they heard rapidly-approaching footsteps. Orchid Ottelby appeared around the corner, hair dishevelled and boyfriend in tow. She was giggling, tugging him towards the marble staircase with one hand, but pulled up short when she saw the two prefects.

"Oh." Her smile widened. "Look who it is, Torrance."

"Hullo, Orchid," Summer said, returning her smile. Albus shifted his feet and said nothing.

"Potter and Birchgrove." Bole held up his hands in mock surrender. "You've got us. Sneaking out past curfew – quite shocking, isn't it?"

"We tried to set up a diversion and everything – but you can never really rely on Peeves, can you?" Ottelby sighed, leaning against her boyfriend's shoulder and appearing perfectly at ease. "Oh, well. Will you let us off this one time if we promise it won't happen again?"

"Of course," Summer said easily, but Albus took a step forward, towards the two Slytherins.

"Hold on a minute. Where are you going?"

Bole regarded him with some amusement, as though he were a rather interesting specimen in Care of Magical Creatures. "Downstairs, Potter. Why? Care to join us?"

Ottelby snorted at that, and her boyfriend grinned, watching Albus as the latter spoke again, doggedly.

"What are you doing downstairs?"

"You really _don't_ want to know," Ottelby said lightly, her arm snaking around Bole's waist as she wiggled her eyebrows at Albus suggestively.

"But we'll tell you if you insist," Bole added, playing along. "You see, when a wizard and a witch love each other very much - "

"That's enough," Albus said gruffly, before Bole could get any further. He could sense Summer's gaze on him, and felt incredibly foolish, his face warming once more. "Go on, then. But – er - we're going to have to deduct points."

"There's no need for that, Albus," Summer interjected gently. "They said it wouldn't happen again, didn't they?"

"_Thank_ you, Birchgrove," Bole said sincerely, smiling at her. "Nice to know someone's on our side." He set off for the marble staircase at a leisurely pace, arm around Ottelby as she continued to snicker. Only when they reached the top did he halt, turning back slowly to look at Albus. His face had lost all of its mirth, and his eyes seemed suddenly darker, the lit torches casting strange shadows across his skin.

"Just one warning, Potter. The next time you raise your wand to our friend, Nott mightn't be around to put a stop to things."

Albus was quiet as they disappeared down the staircase, feeling more than a little chilled by Bole's words. He thought of what Rose had said earlier. _Someone had to stand up to them! _Maybe she had a point. Maybe doing nothing had made things worse for him. Because now Bole and Ottelby felt they could humiliate him – and they knew he would not fight back.

"Don't listen to them," Summer said, and he gave a start, forcing the thought away. She did not seem in the least bothered by what Bole had said, and was smiling reassuringly at him. "Come on, let's get this finished. It looks like we'll have our work cut out for us this year, doesn't it?"

The rest of their patrol was peaceful by comparison. Conversation came surprisingly easily, whether it was about Quidditch, school or their favourite bands (Summer's was the Sirens, Albus's was Phoenix Tears). Having caught no other marauding students after an hour, Albus walked the pretty Hufflepuff prefect back to her common room.

"Well, that was interesting," she said with a smile as they stood before the entrance to her common room. "I'm really glad we were paired together."

Albus tried to ignore the warmth in her eyes that was making his stomach twist itself into knots, and simply nodded in response, until she had disappeared into the entrance. Then he started back towards the Gryffindor Tower, unable to help one last, cheering thought – that throughout the whole patrol, Summer Birchgrove had not mentioned his brother once.

* * *

After several hours of tossing and turning in her four-poster bed, staring at the dark ceiling above and listening to the snores of her dormitory-mates until she felt like screaming with frustration, Rose had resigned herself to the fact that she was not going to get any sleep that night. It was a pointless venture. Every time she closed her eyes, images of Astoria Malfoy locked up in Azkaban flashed across her retinas… And Scorpius Malfoy raising his wand to her in Potions, Torrance Bole and Orchid Ottelby standing with their arms crossed, smirking at her.

_Maybe your family isn't as powerful as you'd like to think, Weasley._

Treading as lightly as she could, Rose padded out of the dormitory, shielding her wand-light with the sleeve of her pyjamas (and stubbing her toe against the side of Penny Alderton's bed in the process, causing the latter to stir sleepily as her dormitory-mate hissed colourful curses under her breath). She descended the stairs into the empty common room with the vague intention of going to get some fresh air, but pulled up short when she saw a figure seated in the hearth, her features cast in the dim glow of the dying fire.

"Cass?" she said in surprise. "What are you doing awake?"

Cassie met her gaze. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and she held a piece of parchment in her hands. "Couldn't sleep," she said dully.

"Join the club." Rose folded herself into the nearest armchair, suppressing a yawn. "I haven't seen you all day. You were asleep when I came up after dinner. Do you want to tell me what's up?"

Silently, her friend held up the piece of parchment; squinting, Rose saw that it was the Quidditch tryouts sheet, and sighed. "You really shouldn't get so worked up about this. I heard Madam Hooch say you're the best Chaser Hogwarts has seen for years. Besides, James says you've nothing to worry about, and I know my cousin… he's not the type to give empty compli – Cass?"

The other girl had let out a sob, casting the sheet out of her hands. Shocked, Rose slipped out of her armchair and dropped to her knees, putting a comforting arm around her friend's shoulder. "Hey. _Hey_. What's the matter?"

"I…" Cassie shook her head, took a deep breath, and blew her nose. "I can't try out this weekend. Or - ever. My parents won't let me play Quidditch anymore. It's too much of a _distraction_, they say. They even – they even took away my broom."

"Oh, _Cass_…" Rose stared at her. "A distraction from what?"

"From studying," her friend said bitterly, avoiding her gaze. "They said I got bad O.W.L. results last year because I was too focused on Quidditch."

"But you got fantastic results! You _did_," she insisted as Cassie gave her a look.

"Rose, no offence, but you're the _last_ person I want to hear that from. Ten _O_s, remember?"

"Right." Rose sighed. "But… there has to be another way - I could help tutor you and everything, you could get them to give you a chance…"

"Don't you think I've tried that?" Cassie gave a mirthless little laugh, shaking her head so that her long, dark hair fell over it, strands sticking to her damp face. "I've been arguing with them all summer. I've tried persuading, reasoning, bargaining, shouting, tricking, threatening, even _begging_. I've tried everything, but they won't bloody budge."

"Well, we'll keep trying," Rose said firmly. "We've got to. I know how much Quidditch means to you, Cassie, it's your life - "

"They said I'll never get a proper job without good N.E.W.T.s," Cassie interrupted. "I told them I'd play professional Quidditch, and they _laughed_." Staring into the dying embers of the fire, she shook her head slowly, wiping the stray strands of hair off her cheek. "And now Rory's trying out – and he's going to replace me as Chaser."

"If he gets on the team." Rose bit her lip. "But your parents'll come around, Cassie, they've _got_ to. "

"They're not going to change their minds," her friend said grimly. "Mum played Seeker when she was in school, but she was in Ravenclaw and got good grades, so it was _different_. And Dad's a Muggle, he barely knows what Quidditch is. They don't understand."

"But – "

"This isn't something you can fix, Rose," Cassie said with finality. "I know you've got your own stuff to deal with, already, and..." She turned to face Rose fully, slipping the arm off her shoulders, her face set. "I haven't been there for you, this past week. Everything that happened with your mum - when I heard, I should have gone over to the hospital straight away. Or at least tried to talk to you properly."

Rose was silent at this, looking down at her hands. Much as she wanted to reassure her friend, she could not help but partially agree – she had been wondering why, after news of her mother's poisoning at the wedding, she had not received more than a brief note from her best friend.

"The truth is," Cassie went on softly, "I didn't know how I could help. What I could say. I thought you wouldn't want me there, with all your family… It all scared me too much, so I did nothing. Which was the worse thing I could have done, really. I realise that now."

"I know." Rose clasped her friend's hand in hers, meeting her eye seriously, blue eyes staring into brown. "Everything's just been so… confusing since it happened, I don't blame you for not knowing what to do. I haven't a clue either." She shrugged her shoulders. "But what's important now is that we just get through the year. Together."

Cassie gave her a wan smile, squeezing her hand. "Together."

The two witches stayed where they were for a long time, talking in low voices, as the light of the fire grew dimmer around them, casting long shadows along the edges of the common room. When at last Cassie rose from the hearth and stretched her limbs, declaring her tiredness, Rose joined her, pausing at the window to tug the curtains closed once more.

It was an unseasonably frosty night, and the glass of the window had steamed over from the warmth of the fire. Marking a circle in the condensation with her sleeve, she glanced through, and blinked. She had thought, for just a moment, that she discerned a momentary flare of wandlight at the other end of the grounds, in the thicket of trees near Hagrid's hut. But then it was gone, and all she could see was darkness.

The sensible part of her said that it was only an Auror, patrolling the grounds – who else could it be? Still, for some reason or another, Rose could not suppress a shiver, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she followed her roommate upstairs to their dormitory.

_A.N: Happy Hallowe'en! A huge thanks to nobodysperfect2133 for reviewing the last few chapters, as well as the anonymous reviewers Guest and SKewedVieW. Your feedback is much appreciated. Keep 'em coming!_


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